[28] What Money Can't Buy (3)
That part satisfied Amy as well. It wasn't just dating—rumor even said they'd sealed it with a kiss, so the boys' shock must have been considerable.
"What are you doing today? When are you going to meet Shirone? Huh? Huh?"
"I don't know. We've agreed to focus on our studies for the time being."
A trace of hurt crept into Amy's tone.
'Even if it's just a fake relationship, the rumors have spread this far—how can he act so casual?'
She felt her pride wounded by Shirone's stone-cold attitude. She wasn't a diva, but every time she checked her reflection she thought she had looks that would turn heads. Still, Shirone really seemed uninterested and was devoting himself only to his studies. Even if it was a staged relationship, it was still an official couple. Even if she was a woman, couldn't a man be at least a little aware of that?
"I don't know! I'm not going to care either. There's too much to do to be wasting my head on this."
"You're really upset, then? Well, Shirone is too much. To neglect such a pretty girlfriend. If it were me, I'd be stuck to her all day. Aha! Maybe that's exactly what moved Amy's ironclad heart?"
"Seriel...."
Seeing Amy's eyes redden, Seriel broke into a cold sweat and waved her hands.
"Ha ha. Okay, okay. That's enough!"
Amy snorted and let her anger show. In a way, Shirone was correctly reading the situation. If he let his attention stray at the wrong time, all the trouble of faking a relationship to drive off the other boys would have been for nothing.
"Oh! Amy, isn't that Jake over there?"
Jake was coming down the hill—bandages plastered over his face, a large backpack slung over his shoulders.
By the disciplinary committee's decision, the Black Magisher had been given a two-year suspension. It was conditional on apologizing to the students who had withdrawn, but it was clearly an unusually lenient sentence.
"Hey! Long time, Amy."
For someone being expelled from school, Jake's face looked unexpectedly bright.
"Still haven't left? You're such a mess."
"Heh heh heh! I've done so many bad things I've got a lot of people to say hello to."
"Turned over a new leaf, have you? Nah. A person's character doesn't change that easily."
"Well, that's true. But even someone like me found someone who believes in me. So now I can't go back to doing bad things."
Word had spread among the students that Shiina had fought hard on Jake's behalf in the committee to reduce his punishment. Without her, the Black Magisher would surely have been expelled.
"So what are you going to do now? If you take two years off your class rank will drop."
"I should apologize to the kids who withdrew. They probably won't forgive me, but I'm ready. After I make things right again, I might not even know what to do with myself."
Amy thought it wouldn't be easy. The students Jake had hurt were mostly first-rank nobles and had suffered wounds to their hearts that couldn't be healed.
She couldn't completely rule out the possibility of death.
Jake would know that better than anyone. Yet instead of fear, he seemed almost relieved.
"I should be going. By the time I come back you'll have graduated. I don't know when another chance will come, but when it does I'll do my best. Take care. Fall in love well."
Jake waved and turned away. Amy returned the gesture with a rotten smile. The idea that even the perpetrator, Jake, assumed Shirone was dating Amy was absurd.
Still, seeing him leave so pitifully as a fellow student left a bitter taste. She hesitated, then called after him.
"Hey, Jake."
Jake looked back.
"Two years will pass quickly. Don't give up."
"Ha ha! If anything gets hard, call me. I'll lend you money whenever you need it."
The jerk kept flaunting money until the end. But in a way, it felt like Jake. Honestly, if he'd started to snivel, she might have thrown a punch.
"Two years... yeah, it's really nothing."
Amy watched Jake walk away and thought. He couldn't attend school for at least two years. But what did that mean? In the world of magic, without skill you'd rot in place for the rest of your life.
"Seriel, I've decided."
"Hm? Going to see Shirone?"
"I'm going to apply to advance to the graduating class."
"What? Already? Isn't that too fast?"
If you entered Class Four, you automatically became eligible to apply for the graduating class. But if you failed the advancement exam, you couldn't apply again that year, so the competition was fierce from the start of the term.
Even if you passed the advancement test, graduation was still distant. The graduating class gathered only the absolute best talents, even at a school of geniuses.
Alumni recall the graduating class as a battlefield fiercer than society. School friendships were temporarily set aside as thirty apprentice mages competed for survival.
Some criticized this endless competition, but given the nature of the profession, it was unavoidable.
Alpheas School of Magic is a state-designated institution; graduating grants an official qualification, meaning you're recognized as a legitimate mage. In short, graduates are considered "ready for front-line service."
Because they might have to face life-and-death situations on battlefields, teachers agreed they had to hold a strict standard for the graduating class.
"Why not wait a bit? There are still lots of openings. You could analyze the level and tendencies of the graduating class and then apply. It's not too late."
"No, I don't want to hesitate. Right now I only want to run forward."
Knowing Amy's stubbornness, Seriel couldn't argue further. At the same time, she felt some anticipation to see how far Amy's genius would carry her in the graduating class.
"All right, I'll cheer for you. You can do it."
"Thanks. I'll head up first and scope out the atmosphere."
"Hehe, actually I'm a little nervous, so I'll start gathering information. Let's do our best."
"Yeah. I'll help too."
Amy tilted her head back and looked up at the blue sky with a relieved heart.
The dream was as far away as the sun. But like the sun, it shone brilliantly, guiding everyone who looked up.
'I will definitely become the greatest mage.'
Eyesore (1)
It was time for the combined class of the advanced group.
Even while seniors and juniors exchanged greetings, no one approached Shirone.
Sometimes standing out too much could be a problem.
He had startled the teachers in the entrance exam, succeeded with the Four-Direction Technique in the first lesson, crushed the Black Magisher, and become the object of envy—Amy's official boyfriend.
In a short time, Shirone had left a considerable mark. Yet he belonged to the lowest of the advanced group, Class Seven, so his classmates' feelings were understandably complicated.
"Hey? Look over there, Amy. Your boyfriend. Shirone!"
Seriel waved from afar. Shirone pushed through the crowd to approach. Amy stood with her arms crossed like a sulking child.
"Hello, senior."
"Ho ho ho! Still calling me 'senior'? We're not strangers and we're the same age, so relax and drop the formalities."
Even as Seriel's meddlesome instincts flared, Amy remained pouty. For some time now she'd felt Shirone's indifference had edged into avoidance.
Not to brag, but Amy of Carmis left no man in the school she couldn't have. She had agonized over how to respond if Shirone ever sincerely approached her.
But how had Shirone been behaving? He treated her as if she were less than a friend, keeping a distance and giving nothing but businesslike conversation.
"Ha ha! I can't help being formal. You are my senior, after all."
Amy almost clenched her fist at Shirone's casual reply. But she held back. Losing her temper here would be admitting she lacked charm.
"Just call me whatever when we're alone. We're a couple—calling each other senior is ridiculous."
At Amy's trembling voice, Seriel felt the power of love anew. Stripped of pride, she would grind herself to win Shirone's favor—something she never would have done before.
"No, it's fine. I'll go to class then."
As Shirone returned to his seat, Amy felt so ashamed and mortified she thought she might cry.
"Forget it! Do whatever you want! If you hate it that much, don't do it!"
Seriel chased after the retreating Amy. Even she thought Shirone's recent behavior was strange.
"Amy, did you two fight?"
"I don't know! I don't care anymore! He thinks he's the only one who's great!"
Shirone suppressed his guilt and returned to Class Seven. Amy was a good person, but being close to the top student of Class Four presented too many obstacles.
As Shirone sat down, his classmates whispered.
"Well, well, look at him. So proud. Want to show off that much?"
"Flirting during class? You came in for your looks with no skill, huh?"
Their jealousy was far worse than Shirone had expected.
The average age in Class Seven was fifteen—young compared to him. At that age a one-year difference felt huge, and immaturity bred petty incidents.
They resented a newcomer being chosen by the top student of the advanced group. Group dynamics took over, and even the girls began badmouthing Shirone.
"My eyes must be crooked. Isn't he a total playboy? He never studies and only flirts, so he can't even perform a single bit of magic."
Shirone decided to distance himself from Amy. He couldn't let her image suffer because of him.
It would be a lie to say the torrent of criticism didn't bother him. Lately it had grown severe enough to make him irritated.
But each time, he remembered Temuran's advice and held back. The only thing he could do now was climb into a higher class as quickly as possible.
"From today we'll cut down on theory and focus on practice. Spend an hour practicing your Four-Direction Technique specialty, then use the remaining time to practice pattern variations."
At Etella's instruction the students gathered to train the Four-Direction Technique. But Shirone couldn't mix with them.
Early on he had unwisely opened his Spirit Zone and paid the price. The kids recoiled as if his Spirit Zone—conveyed to them in a sort of synaesthesia—were filth, and they scattered.
Shirone moved to a quiet spot. He had the largest Spirit Zone in Class Seven, so this was the only way to train comfortably.
After an hour of practicing the defensive type, Shirone worked on the remaining three patterns. The offensive type was decent though not as good as his defensive; the target type proved difficult.
The biggest problem was the escape type. Regardless of the difficulty, he couldn't even imitate it.
'This is really tricky. How on earth do you make it an escape?'
He tried shifting the Spirit Zone to the right, but the form only distorted. The claim that even in the higher classes the number of students who could perform the escape type was countable was no exaggeration.
'Center. Shifting the center is the key.'
Shirone corrected his error and tried again. He fixed the Spirit Zone's form and slowly moved the center.
A humming dizziness washed over him. Would this be what it feels like if your soul slipped out? Consciousness dimmed and sensations faded. Just before it would detach, the Spirit Zone popped like an air bubble.
"Phew!"
All he could think was how difficult it was. Soul detachment wasn't a natural phenomenon. You had to approach it technically.
'Maybe I should move the center first? No, the first way is right. If the form isn't perfect, the center won't move.'
As Shirone struggled, Etella herself came over.
"Shirone, how's it going?"
"The escape type is tough. Moving the center part isn't easy."
"That makes sense. You're a convergence type, so it's the opposite. The Four-Direction Technique is a natural phenomenon, but the escape type is an unnatural one. By the way, how are the other patterns?"
Etella hadn't expected Shirone to manage the escape type. What she hoped for from him was his natural, elemental insight, not artificial calculation.
"Hmm. The rest... seem fine."
Shirone answered honestly. He was becoming reasonably adept at pattern transformation of the Four-Direction Technique.