Tōko Aozaki

They said a school life without ever skipping class was incomplete. Michael had at least taken a big step down the road to completion.

Friendly reminder: Skipping class carries risks. Act with caution!!!

The winter sunlight spilled softly over the cold streets. For once, no clouds obscured the sun; the sky was a washed blue, while a few white clouds drifted lazily overhead, refreshing the spirit.

The Crow Familiar led Michael onward. They turned from the bustling main street into a lively shopping district, finally stopping before a Pachinko parlor with a filthy sign.

The words on the sign had long since blurred away. People came and went through the entrance, most of them looking like high school students. Even standing outside, one could hear the racket within.

Michael pushed open the door, and the heavy stench of tobacco hit him in the face, making him frown instinctively. There were other magi in this city. He had understood that after seeing those two puppets—someone else had the same idea as him.

But he had no habit of handing over a duck already in his mouth. This magus was an enemy, not a friend. He had not expected an enemy to invite him here. Was this a banquet meant to kill him?

But why had they chosen this place?

Michael's air of being utterly out of place quickly drew the attention of those around him. A man with a Mohawk spat on the floor and looked at him with contempt and disdain. His red hair swayed constantly, like a rooster's comb.

"Shōtarō, looking to start trouble again? The manager said he'd throw you out if you caused any more problems."

A vicious-looking clerk walked over, skull and demon tattoos covering his bare arms as he barked in a gruff voice.

"Don't worry, Brother Kimura. I won't beat some kid up just because I don't like the look of him."

The red-haired Mohawk called Shōtarō patted his chest in assurance, then shot Michael a sidelong glance, as if saying, Lucky you, kid. You dodged a beating.

The Crow Familiar hovered by the stairs leading to the second floor, seemingly urging Michael onward. In the entire Pachinko parlor, no one besides him could see it. It had probably been fixed with some kind of concealment magecraft.

Michael did not even bother responding to the red-haired Mohawk's provocation. Who would care about an ant's clamor unless they had nothing better to do? Unfortunately for him, Michael had more important things to handle.

The moment he reached the second floor, Michael noticed someone seated at one of the machines in the middle row. Her exceptional presence made her recognizable at a glance even in a sea of people. The vicious-looking clerk stood behind her, seemingly trying to uncover some trick, but no matter what he did, he could not stop her from hitting the 777 jackpot.

Amid the envious stares of the surrounding customers, she focused on the controls without saying a word, as if winning were only natural.

She looked several years older than Michael. She wore a green Western-style outfit, something like a dress, that perfectly outlined her slender curves. Her legs were not bare, instead clad in black silk stockings.

Her beautiful, slender legs were crossed elegantly. If she had not been playing Pachinko, she would have looked more graceful than a model in a painting. Her short red hair hugged her ears, while her crisp glasses and flame-red lips gave her an air of decisiveness.

Her presence here was as abrupt as Michael's own. He immediately realized that she was the other magus, the one with the same intentions as him.

Moreover, this magus was, in a sense, an old friend of his.

He walked over to a machine beside her, discreetly glancing at the four large boxes by her feet. There were signs of magical energy flowing within them.

Rather than greeting her, he picked up the handle and launched a steel ball into the board. Though he had never played Pachinko before, the game itself was not complicated. One look was enough to learn it.

As the steel ball fell, it repeatedly struck the nails in the board, producing crisp metallic clinks. Its path kept changing, but anyone could tell it was headed far too wide. There was no chance it would land in a winning zone.

Yet when it struck the final nail, its trajectory underwent a bizarre, nonphysical change and dropped into the prize hole. The numbers on the screen spun rapidly before finally stopping on "777."

Along with a string of crisp rattles, more little steel balls clattered down. Amid everyone's envious gazes, Michael stretched, casually picked up a steel ball, and fed it into the machine again.

A few minutes later, the 777 jackpot appeared on the screen once more. Several clerks approached, eyeing him from head to toe like tigers watching prey.

"This game really is boring, isn't it, Touko?"

Michael clicked his tongue, grabbed a handful of steel balls, and handed them out to the onlookers. Amid their cheers, he turned to look at the female magus beside him.

"I don't see it that way."

The female magus adjusted her glasses. The winning number "777" appeared on the screen before her as well.

"If used as an emergency measure, it's rather interesting."

Her lips moved soundlessly as she uttered a word, a sly smile appearing on her face.

"The Fool."

More than ten minutes later, in a café on the shopping street,

A quiet, deep melody lingered in the air. At a window seat, the female magus gently stirred the coffee in her cup before taking an elegant sip.

"The water-to-powder ratio isn't quite right. As for the beans, I still prefer Indonesian beans. The coffee they make has a fuller body."

Michael merely smiled, slowly stirring his coffee clockwise. "I never expected to encounter the renowned Grand Puppeteer, Miss Tōko Aozaki, in a little city like this. What an honor."

"I'm surprised too. I never expected to meet the renowned The Fool here."

Tōko Aozaki set down her coffee and studied Michael with interest. "And not one of those crudely made puppets, either."

"Can't be helped. After staying home for too long, one always wants to move their rusted body. As the old saying goes in the East, when stillness reaches its limit, movement follows. Isn't that so?"

Michael stretched and looked at the flow of pedestrians outside the floor-to-ceiling window, letting out a heartfelt sigh.

"This isn't exactly a good place to relax."

Tōko Aozaki stirred her coffee and spoke as if casually.

"Haha, after seeing the splendor of big cities and the tranquility of forests, a little city like this has its own unique charm. Perhaps I should consider settling down here."

Michael raised his cup for a sip and wet his throat, sounding as though he truly meant it.

"Is that so?"

Tōko Aozaki did not believe a word of Michael's nonsense. She had done business several times with puppets controlled by Michael, and he had cheated her more than once.

She knew Michael's character well. He was a miser who never rose early without profit to be had. Getting any advantage out of him was harder than climbing to the sky.