Structurally, Academy City's upper hierarchy wasn't complicated.
Above all sat the legendary figure no one ever truly saw; beneath that, the Board of Directors, made up of leaders from the city's twelve sectors. Below them came the principals of the elite schools.
Given the city's very name, this was ultimately a city built around students. So the principals who cultivated those students—especially at the most prestigious academies—naturally wielded tremendous authority. For Tokiwadai Middle School, a top-ranked institution even among the best, the principal's power was downright formidable. Moreover, the five famous schools of the Academy Dorm were rivals and yet a natural community of shared interests. Their combined influence within the city was immense.
"Besides…"
"Our principal has ties with one of the directors," Shokuhou Misaki added. "If he truly wants something done, he can trade terms and make it happen."
This was why she'd been confident from the start. It wasn't her first time doing something like this. Previously, to force Director Yakumi Hisako to pull funding from Artificial Talent Workshop's Third Laboratory, she'd approached Tokiwadai's principal and bargained—her own admission to Tokiwadai as the concession—and got the deal done. Now she was simply repeating the playbook.
And of course, no one knew better than Shokuhou herself: LV5s were certainly valuable research assets, but to those lofty directors, their worth was also… negotiable. Seizing an LV5 with little research value wasn't difficult.
"Still, no matter how you look at it, Mugino Shizuri is completely unfit to pose as a middle-school girl."
Haramura Makoto couldn't help glancing back at Mugino again. Her figure could be waved away—early bloomers weren't unheard of, and a ninth-grader reaching such proportions wasn't impossible. Height, though—no matter how well developed, a middle-schooler didn't come that tall.
"She won't be a student—she'll be a teacher," Misaki replied. "The principal was delighted to bring on an LV5 to instruct our ability-enhancement courses. That bumps Tokiwadai's prestige a long stride ahead of the other four."
Makoto arched a brow, teasing, "So she's wearing this outfit to school too?"
"Of course! I even got permission from the principal."
Without a moment's hesitation, Misaki gave a perfectly confident answer.
"Unbelievable that you went and got approval for… that," Makoto said, at a loss for words.
Tokiwadai's rules were notoriously strict. Students had to wear uniforms even off-campus on holidays; staff had a bit more leeway, but the standard was suits, all buttoned-up formality. And yet—she had actually secured this exception.
"Hehe."
"This is punishment. And since the campus is all girls, I've already lightened the penalty."
They didn't walk especially fast. Rather than hurrying to accomplish tasks, the two of them felt more like they were savoring a rare moment alone together. Besides, Artificial Talent Workshop's footprint was enormous, which turned even a simple visit to Freyja's room into a long, long walk.
"Hey, Misaki…"
"Mm?"
"What is it? You look like you're dying to say something and won't."
When called, she naturally looked up; at her angle, she could see all of Makoto's features and expressions.
"Mm… Forget it. After I talk to Freyja."
"Seriously?"
Misaki blinked at him, displeased. "Riddlers are the worst."
But griping aside, she still produced her universal remote and tapped a button. The star-mark in Mugino's pupils faded away.
"I'll take Haramura-kun. Go fetch Flanda."
"Yes, milady."
There was no doubt in Mugino's voice—only perfect obedience to Misaki's orders. That obedience was already the deepest-rooted directive Misaki had planted in her mind.
"So you really are a schemer," Makoto muttered. "Flanda's probably going to be scared out of her wits."
It was written all over Misaki's face, transparent as glass. She hadn't touched Flanda's memories—but now, seeing Mugino remade from head to toe, what would Flanda think? The result was obvious enough.
"I'm only helping her make the right decision faster."
…
A half-meter-thick iron door slowly slid open to both sides.
The room was bright and spacious, warmly designed and filled with the sort of things and toys little girls might use. The wall colors were a bit plain, but naturally, Freyja was inside.
"Makoto-nii!"
From the depths of an overstuffed beanbag chair, a small, pale hand rose into the air.
"Told you a hundred times—don't call me Makoto-nii. Keep it up and you can kiss your violent video games goodbye."
The little hand withdrew. In its place, glossy, wavy blonde hair peeked out, and her fair skin, caught by the light, glowed with a soft pink flush.
"Hmph, threatening me with that again?"
"This time it's obviously your fault! I got kidnapped out of nowhere and dragged to this bizarre place. Until you explain everything, I'll call you Makoto-nii if I want—and you're scolding me?"
That clear, ringing voice, with a touch of aggrieved pout—paired with that scrunched little face—would have made most people melt and rush to comfort her.
"Save it."
"The same trick loses its bite when it's overused."
Makoto walked up without ceremony and flicked her forehead with a neat knuckle-snap.
"And sit up."
"You wanted answers? You're getting them now."