Chapter 6

Nagaoka, Niigata Prefecture, Japan

Thursday, December 1st, 2050

My first impression of Nagaoka was that I’d left one Iceland and landed in another. I’m told that the winter of 2050 was an especially harsh one, and with the humidity, stepping out of the train station felt like a punch to the gut. There was a thin coating of snow everywhere, and more falling from the darkening evening sky all the time. Our woolen Wizard Corps uniforms were often too warm, but not this time. Kowalski didn’t seem affected too badly, a benefit of his sheer size. Seeing that Mariko was suffering worse than me, I surrendered my scarf to her.

“Thank you,” she said, wrapping it around her neck.

“Huh. Didn’t think you’d keep that old thing,” came an unexpected voice from behind.

There was Kiyo again, shimmering into view as she deactivated her Death of Light affinity.

“Oh! Fancy running into you again, my dear.”

“Not ‘your dear’ anymore,” she said, shooting a glare at Mariko. “Looks like the position’s taken.”

Mariko’s brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a proper response.

I filled the gap. “Of course I kept the scarf,” I said, adjusting it to better cover Mariko’s exposed neck. “It was a gift, after all.”

“A crappy one,” she said. “I didn’t really know what I was doing with it. Heck, it looks like it’s coming apart in the middle.”

“Buddy kinda played tug of war with it,” said Kowalski, laughing nervously. “Sorry about that.”

Kiyo gave him a sideways look before shrugging. “Whatever. I’d figured Magpie… I mean, Soren would have already tossed it out.”

A few more cadets descended upon us where we waited for further instructions. I blamed Kowalski; the blond behemoth towered over most of the locals. These newcomers were strangers who stayed in their clique and spoke in hushed tones. A pity; I’d have loved a reason to interrupt this reunion.

“Kasasagi! Kiyo! Mariko! Rafal!” My rescue came in the form of Hiro Takehara, who of course had the good graces to include everyone. So like him. “Hello, hello!”

“Takehara,” I said. “What a surprise! I suppose they’re drafting just about anybody now.”

“Kasasagi!” said Mariko, sounding scandalized.

Hiro wasn’t perturbed, though, and we exchanged a fist bump. Mariko really struggled with the finer nuances of roasting and male bonding. “Good to see you,” he said, before switching to some rapid-fire Japanese that was beyond my meager skills.

“Come again?” I wasn’t expecting him to translate the statement, since his spoken English only somewhat better than my Japanese. I couldn’t detect any malice in his body language, though.

Looking at him, you would never see the seeds of future greatness. To my eyes, he seemed like an utterly typical Japanese young man: soft features, short, slightly out of control black hair, and dark eyes. Hell, he wasn’t even especially tall for a Japanese man, coming in an inch less than Mariko, which meant I always looked down on him.

The ladies seemed to spot something I didn’t, though, since he’d always been oddly popular. Perhaps a devil wasn’t drawn to the cheerful veneer he usually wore.

Then again, he did have hidden qualities. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been there. His magical reserves were pitiful, to the extent where he’d barely been able to cast a spell without passing out when we’d met.

However, I’d always assumed he’d be among us draftees. He was pigheaded enough to press on where most men would have given up and accepted their failings. He’d certainly proven himself in every fight we’d shared. While I’d never say it to his face, I had developed a certain admiration for him, and I still feel dirty writing that down. However, I see no reason to lie at this point.

By the Dark Lord, I hope either I die, or he does before these manuscripts see print. I’d never live it down if he knew.

I was equally unsurprised when Yukiko Sato stepped out from behind him. “He said, ‘If they could make an exception for you, why not me’?”

If I looked down on Hiro, I towered over Yukiko, who barely broke the five-foot barrier. Despite this, her commanding presence was worthy of the SatoCorp mega-conglomerate’s scion. She was also one of the loveliest women I’d ever had the pleasure to meet, and displeasure to be shot down by.

As proof of Hiro’s strange attraction, at one point, he’d had Yukiko, Kiyo, and Mariko in a cold war to try and win his affections. I’d had to horn in on that action since, well, they were all three well out of his league. The strange part was that he’d considered the end of the sexless harem a relief, and thought better of me for it. Proof that he was a little touched.

Hiro’s eyes went wide. “No, no, that is a lie! Translate right, please!” It did seem that his comprehension was leagues ahead of his speech.

“He said, ‘If they drafted me, I knew we would see you here, too’,” said Mariko.

Yukiko smirked. “I liked my version better.”

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“You would,” I said, unable to help returning her smug grin. “Everyone, you remember Kowalski, right?”

“Of course,” said Yukiko, eyeing him suspiciously. “It’s hard to forget Buddy pinning me to a wall back at Fort Flamel.”

“B-Buddy’s way better now, I promise!” he stammered.

“I should hope so, Mr. Kowalski,” she replied. “Otherwise, I’d question why you were here.”

I exchanged a glance with the giant, and I could practically see the thought ‘body to shove in a uniform’ playing through his mind. It was time to do something, ugh, kindhearted.

I clapped him on the back, barely budging his mass. “Oh, I owe Kowalski here my life several times over! If you doubt him, you doubt me, too.”

His eyes widened. “Magpie…”

“Well, I doubt you too,” said Yukiko, smirking again.

“Fair enough,” I said. “Anyhow, it seems that most everyone is here.”

“Not really,” said Hiro. “Rose Cooper is powerful. Paul Wilson, too. But, not here both.”

“Rose does not quite have the same experience we do,” said Mariko. “She only had to fight in the Tower, and she has problems with her magic. Perhaps they spared her?”

“Well, I know what she’s been up to,” I said. “Traipsing around the South Pacific while we froze our asses off in Iceland!”

Yukiko frowned. “Well, I don’t know what I’m at liberty to say, but you weren’t the only ones who sent in a distress signal with your Finding Device. She’s alright, though.”

The icy hand of fear released my guts at that last part. “You certainly know how to worry a chap!”

“Yukiko teases a lot,” said Hiro. I noticed he was sticking to English after the translation snafu a moment ago. It’s why I opted not to make a dirtier joke about the connotations of the English word ‘tease’, especially since I doubted they’d gotten past holding hands. No sense stating the obvious.

“Must have been quite the shock, Ms. Sato,” I said. “I’d wager you weren’t expecting those finding devices to be used at all.”

“You spoiled our day pass to the beach,” she said, pouting adorably.

“Yukiko,” said Hiro in a warning tone, looking up and patting me on the arm. “It is fine, Kasasagi. Glad you safe. You too, Mariko.”

“Hi Kiyo,” said Kiyo, her voice laced with bitterness. “Oh, are you still here? Sorry, we didn’t notice. More interesting people showed up.”

Everybody exchanged a quick look and a frown. Kiyo had always had a bit of a complex about being ignored. I spoke up first, fearing that Yukiko would berate her for the social faux pas and make things worse.

“How was Australia? I understand it’s summer down there.” All I knew about Australia was that it existed and that Dante, Fera’s demonkin middleman, was from there. He hadn’t left me with a good first impression.

“Hot, mostly,” said Kiyo. “I burnt like a marshmallow, so I mostly stayed indoors. Beach was kinda worth being a lobster, though.”

“Sounds like paradise,” I said as Mariko leaned into me for warmth. Kiyo’s description of sun and surf made the bitter cold that much harder to bear.

By then, there were more than a dozen of us milling about at the appointed spot, and we’d drawn some attention. That many Wizard Corpsmen in one spot was unusual, after all, even if we were cadets. Taxis and buses picked up the waiting travelers huddling around the curb, but there was no sign of our ride.

“Are they going to keep us waiting here all night?” I asked. “Where is Mr. Lahlou? I haven’t seen him since we boarded the train in Tokyo.”

One of the cadets in the other cliques, an Asian boy I didn’t recognize, stepped forward. “He was sitting near us, but went another way when we got off.”

“Lovely,” I groused. “Kiyo, care to grace us with one of those special Fireballs so we don’t freeze our collective asses off?”

She looked like she wanted to disagree with me on principle, but the slim girl was as miserable as any of us. “Yeah, that makes sense. Fireball!” Magical runes orbited Kiyo’s hands as she formed a thickened envelope of magical energy and ignited the air within. Unlike the normal spell, this one hovered about five feet overhead and came to a stop, immediately warming the air around us.

Funny how something so mundane can be the highlight of somebody’s evening. As Kowalski had said, Fireball was one of the most basic spells. There are five stages of grief, but apparently there were three of rubbernecking. First was an instinctive flinch at the unexpected lights and fire, followed by recognition of our uniforms, and then everybody whipped out their smartphones to snap a picture of the scene.

Ah, well. Let them gawk; I was damn cold! I was grateful to have Mariko for warmth, even if I could feel Kiyo’s growing irritation at us.

The conversation was the typical sort of catching up one does with friends after a long absence. It was damn strange having friends worth the name, but I wasn’t complaining.

It was another ten minutes before our ride finally pulled up to the curb. Rides, I corrected myself, as the pair of armored personnel carriers came to a stop. They bore the familiar logo of the Wizard Corps, a stylized fist gripping a wand, as well as unit markings I didn’t recognize.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Mariko.

I didn’t share her elation, but that’s because I was intimately familiar with this sort of APC. I wasn’t sure what the human designation was; back in England, we’d always called them tomenworls, or rolling coffins. They were fantastically defended against small arms fire, but without a wizard to throw up defensive spells, they were sitting ducks against magical attacks.

I told myself I was being too paranoid. There wasn’t a single devil besides me on this side of the Sea of Japan. I could relax a little.

A hatch swung up at the rear of the lead vehicle, revealing Mr. Lahlou. “Ah, there you are! Apologies for the delay; they had to take some time out to throw some chains on these beauties, and then I found them idling a block away!”

Is that what those metal contraptions wrapped around the wheels were? “Chains? Whatever for, sir?”

“We’ll need them where we’re going,” he replied, as if the use was self-evident.

“They are for helping the tires grip snow,” said Mariko, whispering into my ear.

Mr. Lahlou scanned in the group, his lips moving as he counted. “Excellent, this seems to be everyone. Are you waiting for an invitation? Hop on in!” He frowned slightly at the sight of the floating fireball, stopping me with a hand on the shoulder. “Who cast that Fireball?”

Why did he assume I’d know?

I did, after all, but I didn’t like getting special attention from people who knew demons firsthand. It wasn’t good for the digestion.

“Oh, forgot about it.” Kiyo snapped her fingers, dispersing the Fireball into a shower of orange residuum.

“Remember, Ms. Jones, you aren’t at the school now,” he said. “Let’s not panic the mundanes.”

“Panic? I don’t know sir, they seem to be enjoying themselves.” A steady stream of shinkansen passengers had come and gone while we’d waited, but most everybody passing us by went through the three steps.

Mr. Lahlou held up his hand to block a bystander’s camera and grunted. “There are plenty out there who take a dim view of magic in general. You are lucky that the locals are tolerant around here.” He gestured for us to pick up the pace, which we gladly did.

The interior of the APC wasn’t made for comfort, but it was at least warmer than the outside. The seats were arranged along the sides of the vehicle, so we ended up staring at one another across an empty space in the middle. As luck would have it, I ended up facing Kiyo, who I’m shocked wanted in my car at all. I didn’t to worry about things being too awkward, since she was already buried in her GoSato portable console.

I noticed Mr. Lahlou didn’t object to that last part. Hopefully, military discipline was another area where the humans lagged the superior Grim Horde model. At the very least, I was less likely to be flogged.