Even at the close of the twenty-first century, Tokyo, Osaka, and Nagoya remain the three pillars of Japanese urban life. While Osaka had once suffered a period of sharp economic decline, it had clawed back its status as a commercial powerhouse through aggressive logistics reforms, such as waiving airport fees and transitioning its ports to twenty-four-hour operations.
However, the incident unfolding tonight was not in Osaka, but Nagoya. The time was nearing 11:00 PM. The setting: a quiet riverside promenade in Atsuta Park, running along the banks of the Horikawa.
"Honestly, choosing such a deserted spot at this hour for a secret meeting... it's like they're begging to be suspected," a voice whispered.
The speaker was a girl of fifteen or sixteen with long, spiraling curls. She was dressed in an ostentatious outfit that looked more suited for a visual-kei rock concert than a stakeout. Given her own suspicious appearance, she was hardly one to talk, but she seemed perfectly comfortable in her hypocrisy.
"I don't think a 'sister' dressed like a borderline public nuisance should be judging anyone's choice of location," came the reply.
The responding voice was ambiguous—too low for a girl, yet too high for a boy. Had one only heard the voice, it would have been impossible to tell. However, the speaker was wearing a black, mini-length jumper skirt over matching leggings—undeniably feminine attire. Beneath the skirt was a black turtleneck that left only the face and hands exposed; there was even a modest swell at the chest. With a straight bob cut at the jawline, the speaker was, to all outward appearances, a young girl.
"You just don't get it, Yami-chan," the elder sister said. "Precisely because I'm dressed like this, anyone who sees me out this late will just think, 'Oh, just another delinquent girl,' and move on."
"...I wonder what Tatsuya-niisan would say if he saw you."
The sister's logic was annoyingly sound, leaving Yami momentarily speechless. This attire was a necessity for the mission they had been assigned tonight, but Yami wasn't ready to surrender the argument. Invoking the name of her sister's crush was a calculated counter-attack—until a report chirped in the receiver in her ear, ending the petty squabble.
"Sister, the target is here."
"I see them too. A boat? I didn't expect that. And a yakata-bune of all things... it's so conspicuous. Do they even care about being seen?"
"I doubt they're worried. If they're spotted, they can just claim they're providing a tip to a journalist."
"A 'journalist,' huh..."
Yoru's voice dripped with skepticism. Yami gave a theatrical shrug, though she kept it subtle enough not to be seen from a distance.
"Save your 'distrust of the media' lecture for another time, Yoru-nee."
"Yami-chan... you're getting quite cheeky, aren't you?"
The younger sibling's signal that small talk was over was no mere gesture. Ignoring her sister's jab, she fixed her eyes on the traditional tour boat as it prepared to dock.
"Is that the reporter? He looks like a mercenary no matter how you slice it."
"He actually has a background in mercenary work. You should have received the data earlier."
Yoru looked away quickly to avoid Yami's 'didn't you read the brief?' stare. She had spotted the reporter a while ago; he seemed to think he was well-hidden, completely unaware he was being monitored and photographed.
"He's a journalist with strong anti-establishment leanings," Yami added.
"Hmph. A 'paragon of journalism,' then."
"I'll listen to your prejudices later. Let's go. We take the boat first. Sister, if you please."
"Fine, fine... Hold on tight, we're moving."
Yoru stepped behind her sibling and focused her gaze on the boat visible through the gaps in the trees. In an instant, Yami vanished. A second later, she was standing on the prow of the boat. This was Pseudo-Teleportation—the specialized magic Yoru commanded.
Launched into the heart of the enemy by her sister's power, Yami kicked off the deck and vaulted into the cabin. Five men were inside. Like the mercenary-turned-journalist, they possessed disciplined, well-trained physiques, but they lacked his rugged air. Instead, their eyes burned with a fanatical, single-minded intensity.
"Who are you?!"
The demand was clumsy. It sounded as though the speaker had started in his native tongue before hastily switching to Japanese. Yami decided she could worry about their identities after she had neutralized them.
Under the cabin lights, Yami's face was strikingly lovely—almond eyes with large, clear pupils, a well-defined nose, and shapely red lips. The sight of such a delicate girl suddenly intruding upon a room full of hardened men naturally caused a moment of stunned hesitation. Yami, however, felt no obligation to wait for them to recover.
"Hey! What's happening?!"
One of the men suddenly slumped forward, and the others finally realized this was no joke. One man knelt to shake his fallen comrade, shouting in English, oblivious to his slip in language. The others were too panicked to notice.
"A magician?!"
The man who had knelt was the next to go, collapsing with a muffled groan as if struck by a heavy blunt object. Finally, they connected the dots between the girl and their falling comrades. One man lunged, but Yami simply pointed her right hand at him, and he crumpled to the floor just like the others.
"You monster!"
With a venomous curse, two men leveled their handguns at Yami. Her pre-cast sound-insulation field could swallow a shout, but she wasn't confident it could stifle a gunshot.
(They really aren't trying to hide, are they... No suppressors, seriously?)
Yami saw no reason to wait to be shot. She pressed a button on her CAD. The device, specialized for a single sequence, unfurled an activation square that wove her unique brand of magic: a spell that bypassed the physical and projected pain directly into the human nervous system.
The two men felt as though a pile-driver had slammed into their abdomens. Their consciousness blacked out instantly.
"As expected of Tatsuya-niisan. This is even easier to use than before."
Thinking of the person who had fine-tuned her CAD, Yami offered a silent word of thanks to her brother.
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