Chapter 10

Wizard Corps Installation 17B, Niigata Prefecture, Japan

Friday, December 9th, 2050

Our days settled into a predictable routine. Each morning we tackled The Gauntlet to earn our daily bread, followed by melee combat training, and each evening was given over to magical study. It hadn’t given us much of a chance for anything else, which I suppose is the purpose of boot camp.

It didn’t make me any happier about the celibate state of affairs, but at least I could understand it.

“Soren,” said Mariko, “I am in my right mind. Remember that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I had to say that first,” she said. “I… I actually miss the Nagoya Academy.”

Despite the warning, I nearly spat out the water I’d been drinking. I put a hand to her forehead. “Hm, you don’t feel feverish… though that would be an accomplishment today.”

After all, we were still deep in the mountains in the middle of December. The only magic we’d been asked to demonstrate as a class were Fireballs to clear the practice field of the previous night’s snow deposit. The long physical drills and insulated uniforms fought off the cold even as a fine dusting of new snow fell around us.

Mariko closed her eyes and smiled at my touch. “Your hand is so warm, Kasasagi,” she just about purred. “It takes my mind off of this torture.”

“Come now, my dear, it can’t be as bad as all that.” It gave me some hope that she seemed to be just as eager as me, at least.

“It can be,” she said. “The Guantlet, then calisthenics, and then weapons drills until my hands want to fall off! I do not know how you all are not exhausted.”

“Probably because you were on medic duty before,” said Yukiko. “They aren’t letting you sit on the sidelines anymore.”

Mariko sighed, flexing and unflexing her blistered fingers. “Very true. Ara, they feel as raw as hamburger. You are sure I should not heal them?”

“They must be awfully painful if you’re willing to risk healing magic near your scars,” I said.

She nodded, and I’d have done something romantic like kiss her fingers if our superiors hadn’t been taking a smoke break fifteen feet away. Giving her a pat on the shoulder didn’t seem out of line, though.

“You want the… rough skin,” said Hiro.

“Calluses,” piped up Yukiko.

Hiro frowned. “Calluses, yes. Thank you, Yuki-chan. Hurts now, Mariko, but you will be strong later. You have to catch up.”

He was sticking to spoken English, in spite of the ivory fabricata translation headsets the rest of us had in our ears. Well, I wasn’t going to let Hiro show me up too badly. I popped mine out, searching my limited Japanese vocabulary before settling on the equivalent of, “Well said.”

We were on an all-too-fleeting break between drills, sitting on a patch of concrete we’d defrosted with Fireballs and dried with Spot Cleans. Our breath curled into the air in white whisps as we spoke.

Despite it all, unbuttoned my uniform to avoid overheating. “Yukiko, my compliments to SatoCorp for these uniforms, but I think you overdid it.”

“Why do you assume we made these?” she asked.

“Because you make bloody everything,” I said, fanning my exposed chest. “My face and hands are freezing, but I’m on the verge of heatstroke everywhere else.”

Yukiko graced me with a rare smirk. “Can we use that in the commercials?”

“Speak with my agent,” I said. “I don’t come cheap; probably why I don’t have any offers yet.”

“He says that,” said Mariko, “but that cereal company that uses Mr. Maki on the box has been asking.”

“That they have,” I said, suppressing a shudder. “I’d nearly forgotten that.” I didn’t care for this ‘hero’ business they were trying to foist on me, but I hadn’t seen a polite way to decline. “Apparently the first boxes go into stores next month.”

“So I heard,” said Yukiko.

“What, are Wizard Puffs made by a division of SatoCorp, too?” I asked.

She shook her head. “No, don’t be silly. Those are General Mills. Mr. Maki was complaining about it when he called us about this assignment.”

It was time for my own smirk. “Oh, they called you on the phone? We had the headmaster show up in person to recruit us.”

“Because Hiro and I weren’t liable to take hostages to dodge the draft,” said Yukiko.

“What an awful thing to say about Mariko,” I said. “She only has the one hostage, and he hasn’t wanted to escape yet.” That earned me a giggle from my lady love. Oh, that sound had me thinking even more randy thoughts than before!

Hiro looked scandalized a moment before relaxing. “Ah, a joke. Had to translate in my head, but now I see.”

“Good show,” I said. “Keep that up and I’ll be asking you for English pointers.”

It was strange how old friends can make the new seem comfortable. There were a few people missing to make it feel like the old gang was together, though. Paul Wilson and Rose Cooper never turned up; I was only let down by one of those. Kowalski had never been part of our main group, and it seemed he liked the company of his countryman. It made me wonder if my months of playful belittling had backfired, once he had better options.

The most striking omission, though, was Kiyo. Aside from my rescue on The Gauntlet, we hadn’t interacted outside of training, and she tended to keep to herself.

I could still find her, though. Her Death of Light affinity hid her from sight, but Mimic let me follow her magical signature.

“Soren? Earth to Soren!” said Yukiko, snapping me out of my reverie.

“Are you tracking Kiyo again?” asked Mariko. I nodded. “How is she doing? Wait, do we want to hear?”

“Don’t sugarcoat it,” said Yukiko. “What’s she up to?”

“Nothing at all,” I said, adding, “she’s leaning on that flagpole over there.” I tried not to be too obvious as I nodded her way.

“Oh,” said Mariko, deflating slightly. “She does not seem to be making friends.”

“Not her strong suit,” I said.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“You became her friend in one day,” said Hiro.

Yes, because I was trying to get in her pants, I didn’t say.

“Because he was trying to get into her pants,” said Yukiko, and this time I did spit out the water. The spray mostly got the culprit, though, proving there is a bit of justice in the world.

I think we were all grateful when Sergeant Lakdhar blew into her whistle, summoning us to parade rest in front of her. The Enemy knows I didn’t want to continue down that line of thought. Whatever emotional scars I’d inflicted on Kiyo did not seem to have healed.

I popped my translator back into my ear, since our instructions tended to come in Japanese and Sergeant Lakdhar did not like repeating herself.

“Who’s ready for more weapons drills?” asked the Sergeant as Mr. Lahlou continued smoking his cigarette.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” came the united response. Back at the school, there would have been a chorus of groans. Carine Lakhdar ran a tighter ship than the remedial classes I’d attended, and we’d all learned how she felt about back talk.

Or, so I thought, because there was an interruption.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” One of the female trainees raised her hand, continuing when she was acknowledged. “Can I ask why this doesn’t seem any different than what we were doing back in Nagoya?”

“How do you mean, Hernandez?” asked Sergeant Lakdhar.

“I mean…” She glanced at those of us from Class 3-B meaningfully. “I get why the students from the remedial classes need the extra attention. Aren’t the rest of us ready for real training?”

I could feel Yukiko bristle on our behalf. She’d been forced to bomb her exams by her father, which must have killed the prideful young woman inside.

Sergeant Lakdhar’s eyes narrowed and a chill ran up my spine. Poor girl.

“Hernandez,” she said. “You had just ended your first year when the Tower Attack put your schooling on hold. Unless I was told wrong?”

“No, ma’am, you’re right.”

“I see,” said Lakdhar, walking closer. “Tell me, how many Holy Brothers did you kill to end that Tower Attack?”

The woman pursed her lips a moment. “Well, none, ma’am. I saw caught in their trap with everyone else.”

“Not everyone else.” She gestured our way. “Most of those remedial students have at least one real battle under their belts. You, on the other hand, test well. If we were called to the front lines tomorrow, I know who I’d want at my back.”

It was so hard, so very hard, not to comment to Mariko about the lovely compliment we’d been paid. However, I had learned my lesson about drawing undue attention to myself. Besides, Ms. Yamada wasn’t likely to appreciate the sentiment. The others from my class did, though; Kowalski straightened up more, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Ms. Hernandez visibly deflated, though she mostly stayed at attention. “Question withdrawn, ma’am.”

“A little late for that,” said Sergeant Lakdhar. “However, I bet you aren’t the only one with that opinion.” She crossed an arm beneath her chest, cupping her cheek thoughtfully with one hand. “I can’t help but notice you’re all sticking to your cliques. Perhaps we need to mix things up a bit and build up some mutual understanding.”

Sergeant Lakdhar started to count us off into groups, though she wasn’t consistent with it. Her thumb was definitely on the scale; Hiro and Yukiko were split up, as were Mariko and I. I ended up with Ms. Hernandez, which didn’t surprise me one bit. It seemed like Sergeant Lakhdar wanted to show her what a remedial student could do.

Ms. Hernandez was a lithe woman with pale, blue eyes and curly, raven locks that bounced as she moved. I wondered when she found the time or resources to style her back-length hair in this military installation.

“You must be Gabriella,” I said, sticking out my hand. “Soren Marlowe. Charmed, I’m sure.”

She started, though she did take my hand. “How did you know? We’ve never spoken.”

“Leo Hernandez was in my class,” I replied. “He mentioned a cousin Gabriella a time or two.”

“And you assume all Hernandezes are related?” she demanded, her face going stony.

“There can’t be many who know magic,” I said, rebuffing her offense. “Am I right or not?”

Seeing that I wasn’t going to blink, Gabriella barked a harsh laugh. “So, you know Loser Leo? Bet he bitched about me raising the bar too high, right?”

And that explained why Leo had never been complimentary. Then again, he’d made Mariko cry at least once by calling her a demonkin to her face. So, he could bugger off.

“Loser Leo? I’ll have to remember that one. I think we’re going to get on famously. Care to swap stories?”

Once you’ve built up the proper stamina, it’s amazing how much conversation you can get in while practicing swordplay. Part of it came down to using wooden swords and armored, enchanted uniforms. We didn’t need to focus quite as much.

It also helped that Gabriella practiced an entirely pedestrian form of mahoukenjutsu, translated as ‘magical sword arts’. The defensive technique was meant more to buy time for allies to deliver the finishing blow with magic. It was sensible when a wizard was likely facing down superhumanly strong orcs and devils; redirecting their blows made more sense than trying to match strength with strength. She was quick, but I could also predict her stereotyped movements without much thought. I’d slain more than a few practitioners in England, especially after a manual about the form had fallen into our laps.

Hm. Now that I’d signed up with the humans, I’d have to let the Wizard Corps know that their pet technique was full of holes. Problems for later.

Gabriella did most of the talking, since I exhausted my supply of Leo stories rather quickly. My encounters with him had mostly involved a good trouncing during field days in class. I decided to leave out the demonkin incident, or the time he, Paul, and I had bowled and compared the anatomies of our female classmates. No sense completely humiliating him too badly in front of his family.

Most of her chatter was about fairly inane things, or comments on new movies and online trends that meant nothing to me. I did learn that Ms. Hernandez had come from one of the many Little Americas that dotted Japanese cities in those days.

“Oh? Little America? Which country in the Americas?” I asked.

Her face screwed up at that. “Oh, don’t be one of those.”

“Come again?”

She held up her hand, signaling a pause in our duel. She’d already been frustrated by my seemingly impenetrable defense, and I’d just pushed her over the edge. “The United States is occupied, but you know dang well what people mean when they say ‘America’.”

I actually didn’t; growing up in occupied Europe after the fall of almost all of the Western Hemisphere to the Grim Horde, the former U.S. didn’t have much meaning to me. I would only later hear the term ‘ugly American’ and realize it fit Ms. Hernandez to a tee.

However, this seemed like the time to smile and nod. “I see. I didn’t mean any offense.”

She grunted. “It’s nothing.” We’d been speaking English the whole time, but her lips went out of sync for that last phrase. “Just dang, what were you doing in remedial classes? I can’t get a hit in on you!”

I smirked. “Unlike you, I don’t test well.”

She shook her head. “What was that technique you were using? It almost looked like the Horde styles from the manuals.”

I shrugged, trying to play off the comparison. “I fought them on my way out of England for a month; some it was bound to rub off.”

“Oh, that was you?” Was that admiration in her voice? Funny how quickly that disdain had turned around. “You were the last man out of England!”

“Yes, that was me,” I said.

“I almost didn’t believe the rumors,” she said. “I can’t imagine anyone getting out of there alive.”

“Oh, by all rights I shouldn’t be standing here.” There was a bit of the truth leaking out. I wished she would change the topic; dwelling on my military accomplishments in England had become much less fun since I’d grown a conscience. That little voice in my head tended to call them war crimes instead.

Either I managed to hide my discomfort, or Gabriella didn’t care. “I thought you looked a little familiar. You’re the Magpie Wizard, then!”

“Guilty,” I said.

Her blue eyes sparkled as she gave me a fresh assessment. “You saved the whole school then! Killed those terrorist bastards!”

I raised an eyebrow. “You heard the Sergeant say all of that earlier.”

Gabriella waved that off. “I didn’t know you were the real hero. I recognized that one guy with the harem from the reports on the Taiwan Incident…”

My laughter cut her off. “You’d best not let Hiro hear you call him that.”

“Let me finish,” she protested. “I recognized that Hiro guy, but you look different in person.”

“Handsomer, I hope,” I said.

“Taller, definitely. And your nose looks a bit bigger.”

“Your words wound me, even if your sword couldn’t,” I said.

“There’s no shame in being beaten by a bona fide hero,” she said, her tone defensive.

“If you say so,” I said, smirking down at her. “You weren’t bad yourself. Just a tad too predictable.”

Her eye twitched as I scored another blow. It seemed that Gabriella Hernandez bore the fragile arrogance of the talented and unchallenged, and it was good fun deflating it.

Her irritation faded faster than I’d expected, turning into an emotion I couldn’t quite read. “Oh? I’m too predictable? Is that the mighty hero’s critique?”

“Yes, just a tad.”

“I’ll try to do something about that, then. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the big hero.” She scanned the area before launching an attack I didn’t block. The brief kiss on the lips came out of nowhere. When we parted, Gabriella’s olive skin was darker on her cheeks. “Hopefully we get a day pass soon; I’ll buy the drinks.”

My hand went to my lips, my fatigue from the duel instantly banished. The look in her eyes told me she was interested in much more than drinks.

Our Father Below, where was this woman when I was single? “I-I’m afraid I—”

My explanation was cut off when Sergeant Lakdhar blew her whistle again. Gabriella jogged away before I could finish. I couldn’t help but notice that she filled out the uniform rather nicely, which might have tied my tongue. My ongoing frustrations didn’t help things, either. There would be consequences for my slow response, though they weren’t obvious at the time.

No, in that moment, I guiltily checked to make sure Mariko hadn’t seen that little display. Thankfully, she was occupied with nursing a bruised shoulder. Healing that would take my mind off Gabriella.