And she was right; it had been a painful, difficult fight. To bring his friend back from the dark wrappings of the ISS kit, Haruyuki had lost his left arm and wing; he had kept standing even as his entire body had split and cracked into pieces. Encouraged by the mysterious golden-yellow girl, he had summoned the Destiny—albeit just one arm of it—the original form of the Armor of Catastrophe, and mustered every ounce of his Incarnate.
The end result was that Takumu had released his special attack upon himself in order to save Haruyuki from the clone of the ISS kit that had been about to parasitize him, and Haruyuki could see even now how that battle lingered on inside himself. If he had to put it into words, it might have been the feeling of confidence in himself. It was precisely because this confidence existed that, in the battle that took place within Brain Burst’s mysterious central server, he had been able to release his new Incarnate attack with a range that surpassed his Laser Sword.
However, shrinking back at being praised was second nature to Haruyuki, and he hung his head, rubbing at both arms. “N-no, that’s—I mean, someone’s always coming to my rescue and stuff…”
“Ha-ha! That you’re able to think like that is already proof of your growth.” Kuroyukihime laughed briefly and lightly patted Haruyuki’s back with the flat of her sword hand. “Now show me, Haruyuki. Everything about this new Incarnate attack you’ve learned.”
Here he truly and desperately wanted to squirm and fidget again, but they were in the Normal Duel Field rather than the Unlimited; they could stay here for only a mere 1,800 seconds. Given that Incarnate training generally took several weeks at least to learn a single technique, thirty minutes was too short. He couldn’t waste a single second.
Haruyuki took a deep breath, stored it in his abdomen, and nodded. “Okay. Here I go.”
Taking a few steps forward, he stopped about three meters away from the windows on the south side of the empty room.
Originally, snow-white wallpaper had covered the walls, but now they were panels of rust-colored steel. Each and every rivet in the grid punched into those panels communicated an overwhelming hardness. But that hardness was, in the end, nothing more than a parameter registered in the server. It should be possible to overwrite it with his will to pierce it.
Haruyuki slowly lowered into a fighting stance and readied his left hand at his waist, lining up his fingers as if for a palm strike. When he imagined a piercing light concentrating into his fingertips, the silver light of his overlay began to illuminate the dim room. As he focused on his image, a faint resonance echoed, and the light moved up his left arm to the elbow. Although the activation speed of his Incarnate was faster than it used to be, Haruyuki was unaware of the fact as he slowly pulled back his left hand.
“Laser Sword!!” At the same time as he shouted the name, he twisted his hips sharply and thrust his left arm forward.
Skrrriiiink! With a crisp sound, silver light in the shape of a sword stretched more than two meters from his left hand and gouged deeply into the thick steel wall.
However, not stopping there, Haruyuki pulled his right leg far back and readied his right arm above his shoulder, rather than at his waist. He brought back his left arm and positioned it horizontally, level in front of his body. This time, the fiercely glittering silver light was born in his right arm.
“Yaaaaah!” The battle cry gushed naturally from his mouth. The sharp tip of the light extending a dozen or so centimeters from his right hand met the back of his left hand—and shot forward.
“Laser Lance!!”
He had launched the technique only once before, that very morning in a dream—and drawing on the help of Chiyuri to boot—but Haruyuki was confident he could do it again. The gleam of the Incarnate discharged in the shape of a lance hit the precise spot where the wall had been damaged three seconds earlier by the light sword digging into it, savagely piercing the area once more.
The lance of light, momentarily stopped, broke apart into several ribbons and disappeared. Immediately after that, the steel plate of the wall itself shattered into pieces and scattered, apparently unable to fully absorb the power it had been hit with. On the other side of the large hole that appeared, one of the steel pillars that stood in the space corresponding to the front yard of Umesato Junior High in the real world was sliced in half and toppled to the ground with a heavy thud.
It was easily ten meters between Haruyuki and the pillar. The sword of light he had released actually reached more than three times his normal swing range.
“Phew.” Haruyuki let out a sigh and lowered both hands, while behind him, he could hear a crisp clang, like a bell ringing. When he turned around, Kuroyukihime was bringing together the swords of both arms to create something like applause.
“Wonderful. Wonderful imagination, Haruyuki.”
“Uh…Th-thank you.” As always, unaccustomed to being complimented, the boy bowed his head, even as he pulled in his neck. But he yanked his head back up again at what came next from his Legion commander.
“This Incarnate of yours is already essentially in the domain of completion as a basic range-expansion technique. Both the Laser Sword—the sword you can extend from either hand at high speeds for hand-to-hand combat—and the Laser Lance, which releases the power built up in your right hand for midrange combat—are good techniques with clear, conscious targets. However, because of that, although you can of course refine the techniques and polish the accuracy of your sights or the speed of activation, you can’t expect any great leaps and bounds forward.”
“Huh?”
So does that mean my Incarnate…ends here? Haruyuki’s shoulders started to drop at the thought, but stopped abruptly as Kuroyukihime continued:
“It’s a little soon to be disappointed. I just told you, the Incarnate System has a second stage.” Hovering soundlessly toward him, she lowered her voice and murmured as if admonishing a small child. “You…Your will contains infinite possibilities. Everything starts with you believing that. The techniques you showed me now belong to one of the four basic types of Incarnate: range expansion. Although the various basic techniques might look different, if they are of the same type, then the essential performance is very similar. Do you understand so far?”
“Y-yes.” Nodding, Haruyuki remembered the unique range-expansion technique that Niko—the Red King, Scarlet Rain—had shown him.
Niko’s technique launched a high-speed ball of fire living in her hand to burn up the distant object she targeted. The long-range technique clearly surpassed Haruyuki’s, given that it launched so quickly that she had no need to even shout the name of the attack and it easily traveled fifty meters. But even so, all these techniques shared the essential nature of being a single long-distance attack.
As if waiting for Haruyuki to come to this understanding, Kuroyukihime nodded and raised her right sword slowly as she spoke. “In contrast, the second stage of the Incarnate is, to wit, the practical technique. Here, you combine two or more of the four basic types of images, or you materialize an entirely new image to bring about an even larger overwrite. Rust Jigsaw’s Rust Order, which destroyed the race before, and Fuko’s Wind Veil, which protected us from that attack, are indeed this kind of second-stage techniques.”
“And your Vorpal Strike’s also like that, right? That technique combines range and power expansions, doesn’t it?”
“Mm.” Kuroyukihime nodded, a tint of embarrassment showing on the other side of her half–mirrored face mask—or maybe it was just his imagination. “Well…I guess that’s how it is. Although it might be more accurate to say that’s how it ended up. At any rate, Haruyuki, the time has finally come for you to proceed to this second stage.”
The first part of her statement was curious indeed, but he didn’t have time to think about what she meant. He stood up tall and shouted, “O-okay! I’ll do my best!” However, here, another doubt floated up in the back of his mind. “Um, but before, in the nurse’s office, you said something about how…to learn t
he second stage of Incarnate, I had to understand the meaning of the power of imagination or whatever in the real world, too, right? What specifically does that mean?”
“Mm-hmm. Well, that is—” Kuroyukihime cut herself off and stared at the tip of her right hand, the sharp sword still held up before her. For some reason, a faint hint of tension drifted across her purple-blue eyes, and she continued in a murmur, “It’s hard to convey the meaning in words, so how about we shift to a show? The truth is, Haruyuki, recently, I’ve also been tackling a new practical technique.”
“What…” Swallowing hard, he stared at the black avatar’s mask. A new practical technique—a super attack power surpassing Vorpal Strike? And she was going to show it off in this tiny room?
“Oh! Th-then, we should go out…,” Haruyuki started to say, and Kuroyukihime stopped him by shaking her head lightly.
“No, it’s not that grand. There’s more than enough space here.”
Then the Black King turned the tip of her right sword precisely on Haruyuki and stood perfectly still.
Wait. What? I’m the test platform for the new technique?
Actually, that’s totally possible. I mean, she’s the master and shield sister of Sky Raker, and Raker didn’t hesitate to shove me off the top of the old Tokyo Tower. Which means it wouldn’t be the slightest bit weird if Kuroyukihime’s way of teaching the Incarnate was even more spartan than Sky Raker’s. Don’t be scared. You’re lucky. I mean, to be the first person to experience the as-yet-undisclosed technique of undoubtedly the strongest person in the Accelerated World…There’s no better training than this. Stand tall and take the hit.
His thoughts bounding ahead in a mere millisecond, Haruyuki gritted his teeth and held his breath.
Right hand still extended before her, Kuroyukihime narrowed her eyes beneath her goggles, the same air of concentration drifting up around her. At the tip of the sharp sword, a yellow light—an overlay—popped up. Pulsing faintly, the light thinly enveloped an area about twenty centimeters from the tip of the sword.
Watching this with wide eyes, Haruyuki felt a slight pinch of confusion.
Because…it was warm. The light enveloping the sword was so gentle, so fleeting, and so warm that he couldn’t actually believe it could generate massive devastation.
But at the same time, in contrast with the tranquility of the light, Haruyuki knew that Kuroyukihime was mustering up every ounce of imagination in her entire body. Her slender avatar trembled; her legs shook intermittently.
“Haruyuki…Your hand.”
Before he stopped to think about—and get confused by—her words, Haruyuki stretched out his own right hand as though compelled. His finger approached the tip of the sword the girl extended and gently touched it. If Kuroyukihime’s Incarnate was an attack type, then at this point, she would generate an overlay, and Haruyuki’s fingers would drop off, regardless of how hard his metallic armor might be.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, something he hadn’t even thought to anticipate was made incarnate.
The sharp black sword melted away.
The tip split into four. And then one more a little below that. Separated into a total of five pieces, the slender, delicate organs caught the light coming in through the large hole in the wall and glittered brightly.
This—
Fingers. A hand.
A modest transformation generating absolutely no sound or light other than the hazy overlay.
Haruyuki reflexively wondered why she would deliberately lower her attack power before finally realizing something: that a practical Incarnate technique could be an incredible miracle, surpassing even the most massive range attack.
No Burst Linker could learn an Incarnate that was not in alignment with their own attributes. The Red King, Niko, had once told him that this was the basic principle of the Incarnate System.
Judging from her form, her limbs clearly swords, the attribute of the Black King was obviously “severance.” She cut through everything she touched. Rejected it. An aloof black lotus flower unable to approach anyone. There was still so much that even her sole “child,” Haruyuki, didn’t know about Kuroyukihime. No matter how close they were, looking at each other, no matter how they talked alone together, the depths of her heart were shrouded in a deep darkness, invisible to him.
But he felt like this was okay. That it was even a part of the beauty of this person Kuroyukihime.
And yet at that moment, she was showing him that she rejected her own attribute. She was showing him that she had negated the words she had once spoken to him—“I don’t even have a hand to hold”—with her imagination.
This Incarnate certainly contained a kind of declaration. That as the leader of Nega Nebulus, she would face the members in a different form than in the past. That she would reach out a hand, open her heart, and form real bonds in not just the Accelerated World but in the real world, too.
“Kuro…yukihime…” Murmuring her name, Haruyuki realized with a sharp pain that he really did know nothing about the person before him. That he had used the superficial words aloof beauty without knowing anything at all.
His vision blurred and twisted. Tears welled up beneath Haruyuki’s mirrored mask as he gently intertwined the fingers of his right hand with those five wire-thin digits. Jet-black and white silver touched, and he was aware of a fleeting warmth. And then—
A hard, ephemeral sound, like millions of tiny bells ringing, accompanied Kuroyukihime’s right hand shattering into tiny shards of crystal.
“Ah!” The cry slipped out of Haruyuki at the same time the girl collapsed, as if she had used the last of her strength. Automatically, he stretched out his right arm to support her slender waist.
Black Lotus held up to her chest the arm she had lost almost to the elbow and took shallow breaths for a while as if—no, most certainly—enduring pain. But finally, she lifted her head and said calmly, “Seventeen seconds. Breaks the old record by a considerable margin. I suppose…it’s because you’re here.”
The declaration implied that Kuroyukihime had attempted this “practical Incarnate” technique and smashed her own hand countless times before that moment.
“Kuroyukihime.” Haruyuki replied with this one word in a trembling voice, unable to hold back the emotion swelling up inside him. Spurred by impulse, he squeezed the avatar in his arms and said earnestly, “Kuroyukihime. Thank you so much. I feel like I understand—to learn the second-level Incarnate, you have to confront not your duel avatar but your own real-world self, right? You have to constantly think about what you’re afraid of, what you hope for, what image you’ll create, not just in the Accelerated World but in the real world, too. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“That’s it exactly.” The voice in his ear was so quiet, it was practically soundless, but it echoed crisp and clear in the duel stage they shared. “For those who use a purely negative will, this process is unnecessary. Because rage and hatred and despair are indivisible from one’s real-world self right from the start. However, to generate a positive will—the power of hope—the process of inverting mental scars is absolutely essential. You face head-on your own trauma, shaped into the form of a duel avatar. You accept it, and you sublimate it into an image of hope. This is no easy feat. It’s simple to fall into the holes in your heart, but the climb out is a steep one. I’ve spent vast amounts of time as a Burst Linker, and even I can barely manage to change my sword into fingers. However…”
She paused and looked up into Haruyuki’s eyes, so close their masks were practically touching. “But you should be able to do it. You realized all on your own what the image is, after all.”
This was perhaps a situation where normally, he’d reflexively cry out, I can’t, or Me?! But right now at least, Haruyuki brushed aside that timid insect and nodded deeply. Their masks bumped against each other, but he maintained that contact and said, “Okay. I…I’ll try. Although I probably won’t make it in time for the mission tonight. Still I’ll fight, I?
??ll find it. My image of hope.”
“Mm. I’ll fight, too. So that next time I can hold it at least thirty seconds, and hold your hand properly.” This time, her murmur contained the force to fluster Haruyuki as usual.
“Uh! Um! Uh.” Blinking rapidly beneath his silver mask, Haruyuki managed to reply somehow. “R-r-right. And using the Instruct menu and stuff’s probably more fun with hands.”
Instantly, the violet-blue eyes before him glittered dangerously, and the chill in her voice increased slightly. “I suppose. I was planning to make this duel a draw for you, but the operation is a bit of a hassle without hands, so I’ll just have to win like I always do.”
Fortunately, Kuroyukihime used the sword of her left hand to accept the draw request Haruyuki submitted.
The direct duel over and now back in the real world, Haruyuki stared vacantly at the ceiling for a few seconds before finally becoming conscious of the situation all over again. He was lying in a bed in the nurse’s office with Kuroyukihime right beside him, their bodies pressed up together like a romantic comedy manga from the last century—
“Haruyuki.”
The soft breath touched his left ear, and after a jerk of surprise, Haruyuki timidly looked in that direction. Instantly, he forgot his nervousness and his surprise and opened his eyes wide.
Still lying on her side on the sheet, Kuroyukihime was staring intently at her own pale right hand. Her small, shiny, pearlescent nails glittered, reflecting the illumination from the light panels above them. She blinked her dark eyes once and then shifted them to focus on him.
“Haruyuki, I wonder if you remember. The day I gave you your first lecture about Brain Burst…I reached out a hand to you in the initial acceleration space and asked you, ‘Do these two virtual meters feel that far to you?’”
How could he forget? At that time, Haruyuki had averted his eyes from the outstretched hand and answered in his heart that they did indeed.
Kuroyukihime nodded sharply, her smile blurred with a plaintiveness as she continued. “The truth is…those two meters were far for me as well. Because for a long time—a really long time—I didn’t offer my hand to anyone. I had been afraid for so long to hold someone else’s hand. Even my Legion members, people I should have been emotionally connected with—Fuko, Utai, Current, Graph—I rejected their hands in perhaps the truest sense of the word. But, well, ever since the day I met you in the virtual squash corner—No, before that, ever since I noticed the little form of a pink pig running as hard as he could, head hanging, avoiding people’s eyes, in a corner of the local net…”