To most students at First High, they were an unexpected sight; to the faculty, they were an outright intrusion.
The party of ten arrived in a procession of three ominous black sedans. Leading the group was Councilman Kanda, flanked by his secretaries, a gaggle of tag-along journalists, and a wall of bodyguards. They stormed into the school during the fourth period—the first lesson after lunch—demanding an immediate audience with the principal. They had, of course, no appointment.
Under normal circumstances, they would have been politely shown the door. However, a National Diet badge has a way of forcing even the most unreasonable demands. Yaosaka, the Vice Principal of First High, received Kanda with a face like he'd swallowed a lemon, struggling to maintain a veneer of professional courtesy as the Councilman trampled over every established protocol to force a meeting.
"Councilman Kanda, as I have already informed you, Principal Momoyama is away on a business trip to Kyoto today. Might I suggest you return when he is actually in residence?"
"Hmph," Kanda snorted. "Are you telling me, Kanda, to go home and come back later like I'm some child running an errand?"
"Perish the thought, sir. I would never suggest such a thing."
"Then you will do, Vice Principal. I wish to observe your classes in session."
"I'm afraid I cannot authorize that on my own authority. Such a request must be directed to the principal himself."
Kanda knew the principal was away. In truth, he had timed this ambush specifically for that reason. Principal Azuma Momoyama was not just an educator; he was an authority on magic pedagogy with deep connections across various sectors. He was a man Kanda preferred not to face head-on.
The standoff continued: Kanda, hoping to score a political win while the master of the house was away, and Yaosaka, using the principal's absence as a shield to block the media's prying eyes. Time was on Yaosaka's side; if he could just drag this out, he'd win by default. But just as Kanda's patience began to fray into aggression, the chime of a carillon echoed through the principal's office.
"Principal?! But what about your conference?"
The visiphone screen—equipped with a gimmick that forced it into a receiving state—flickered to life. There was Principal Momoyama, who was supposed to be in the middle of a meeting at the Magic Association Headquarters.
"I've managed to carve out a moment," Momoyama's voice crackled through the speaker. "Now then, Councilman Kanda. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unannounced visit?"
"Ah, well… I do apologize for dropping in without confirming your schedule," Kanda replied. His bravado, so sharp against Yaosaka, was suddenly nowhere to be found.
"If you understand that, then perhaps we could reschedule for another day?"
"Ordinarily, I would follow your lead, Principal. However, I have certain… concerns."
"Oh?"
"Recently, unsettling rumors have been circulating regarding the curriculum of Magic High Schools. People are whispering that the Nine Magic High Schools are brainwashing their students to become mere tools of the military."
"Preposterous," Momoyama countered coolly. "Are you unaware of our graduates' statistics, Councilman? Last year alone, sixty-five percent of our students went on to Magic University. Less than ten percent entered the National Defense Academy."
"And yet, if you look at the career paths of those Magic University graduates, forty-five percent find employment with the National Defense Force or its affiliates. If you combine them with the students who go straight to the Defense Academy, more than half of the students educated at Magic High Schools end up as military assets."
After a grueling back-and-forth, Momoyama finally relented.
"Very well. I will grant you permission to observe—but only for the fifth period."
"Only one—? Fine. That will suffice."
"Vice Principal, which classes have practicals scheduled for the fifth period?"
"None, sir. However, while not part of the formal curriculum, a group of Year 2, Class E students have submitted a request for an extracurricular experiment. It's set to take place on the school grounds."
"You heard him, Councilman. Perhaps it truly would be better to come back another day?"
"Wait! Surely we could at least see the end of the fourth period?"
"Councilman Kanda," Momoyama's voice took on a warning edge. "If cameras and microphones barge in during a practical, the students' concentration will be shattered. In the worst-case scenario, the trauma of a magical failure could cause irreparable psychological damage. Surely you wouldn't wish that upon them?"
"...Understood. Then at least let us observe this extracurricular experiment."
"Very well. Vice Principal, call for Ms. Smith and have her escort the Councilman's party."
Without a hint of triumph over the frustrated Kanda, Momoyama gave his orders and cut the transmission.
The moment Kanda and his entourage stepped into the Radiation Lab, they were met with a wall of unfriendly stares.
"Ms. Smith, who are these people?"
Only Tsuzura, who was supervising the students' work, spoke up.
"This is Councilman Kanda and his press corps. They are here to observe the school."
"I can understand a member of the Diet," Tsuzura said, his voice flat. "But why the journalists? Press coverage inside the school requires prior authorization. I haven't heard a word about this."
"The principal authorized it."
"I thought the principal was on a business trip."
"He had a moment free and called in."
"I see."
Kanda and the reporters were caught off guard by how easily Tsuzura accepted the explanation. They had expected more resistance.
"Professor, we're ready. May we move the experimental apparatus?"
The conversation was cut short by Kanon Isori, the nominal leader of the experiment.
"...Yes, you may proceed," Tsuzura replied.
The moment the permit was given, the student assistants from the Robot Engineering Club—who had clearly been waiting for the signal—hit the switches. The walls of the Radiation Lab began to slide open silently.
"Let's move," Jennifer Smith said, prompting Kanda and the reporters to scramble after the students as they headed toward the grounds.
"By the way," one reporter asked, catching up to Tsuzura, "why conduct an unofficial experiment during school hours? Is this a frequent occurrence?"
"No," Tsuzura replied. "Originally, this was scheduled for after school. However, once the details got out, many faculty members asked if their own students could watch. We canceled the period's practicals so that interested students could observe. That is why we are moving to the yard."
"So this experiment was the students' idea?"
"It is an experiment of high academic and practical significance."
"Practical?" The reporter flashed a predatory grin. "Are we talking about the development of weapons? Something to wipe out enemy fleets, perhaps—like the secret weapon used in 'Scorching Halloween'?"
Tsuzura turned a frigid gaze toward the man.
"This is an experiment to challenge one of the three great technical hurdles of Weight-Type Magic."
"It's starting," Jennifer interrupted.
Driven by professional instinct, the media crew's attention was sucked toward the apparatus stationed near the center of the yard. They watched with bated breath, entirely unaware that the very 'culprit' of Scorching Halloween they had just mentioned was standing right in front of them.
Compared to him, the thought lingered in the air, you lot aren't even at the level of children running errands.
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