“Muto, don’t get started. I’ve already been through this with Shirayuki. And Aria ... at least call it “combat instruction” when others are around.”
“Stop your complaining. You’re my slave, so I can whip you all I want.”
You said “partner” just a little while ago. I’m demoted to a slave when it fits your convenience, am I?
“Now that I think about it, just how exactly do you plan on whipping me into shape?”
“Hmmm... For starters, as of tomorrow, you’re going to be doing morning drills with me every day.”
Ugh.
From the looks of it, Aria had just now come up with this obnoxious plan to do morning drills and was sitting there with a satisfied look on her face as she muttered to herself that it was a good idea.
Damn. My plan backfired. I never should have brought up the Adsiard.
Seven o’clock the next morning.
I woke up early and made my way to the meeting place, just like Aria ordered me to last night—with her pistols stuck into my back of course.
“Guess who.”
Aria had come up from behind and placed her hands over my eyes. When I turned around, I found myself speechless for a moment.
S-She looks so cute.
“Jeez. How could you let yourself be taken from behind like that? You’ve got a long ways to go.”
Aria, standing up as straight as she possibly could and with her hands on her hips, was in a cheerleader uniform. The cheerleaders of Butei High wore a rather unusual uniform; the primary color is black and the sleeveless top had a small opening above the bust line, providing a view of Aria’s pure white skin. I’m sure that normally, this hole would be in the shape of a heart or a star, but the way it was shaped like a bullet was most befitting of Butei High. Lowering my eyes to the skirt in trepidation, I noticed it was so short that it was permanently gun flashing (gun flash: a glimpse of the pistol hidden under a girl’s skirt. Coined by idiot Muto.)
“W-What’s with that getup?”
“You can’t tell? It’s a cheerleader uniform. Is there no limit to your ignorance?”
“You’re the last person I want to hear that from. In any case, what I was asking was ‘Why are you dressed like that?’”
“Then say so, you dunce. I’m going to practice my cheer routine while I discipline you. If I do both simultaneously, it’ll save time, right?” said Aria, looking around in satisfaction of our surroundings, which are completely void of any people.
This area, located on the outskirts of the Mega-Float upon where Butei High was located, was known as “Behind the Signboard.” It’s a long, narrow strip of vacant land that lies between the school gym and an enormous signboard that was set up facing Rainbow Bridge. Aria had only transferred to the school recently, but she quickly spotted this area because it’s almost always deserted and decided to make it our training grounds. Apparently, she was also planning on using this area to practice for the Ar-kata as well.
“. . . So? What am I supposed to be doing?”
“Ahem.” Cheerleader Aria pretended to clear her throat and putting on airs, drew herself up again.
It’s these little gestures of hers that make her look so childish. I’ll admit that it’s cute, but it’s also irritating.
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re an S-rank butei.”
“Only as far as you’re concerned, yeah.”
“No back talk.”
Seeing Aria reach for her pistols, I kept silent for my own safety.
“Being categorized as an S-rank Assault member means having the same combat strength as a Special Forces military unit.”
You’re crazy.
“That’s the kind of potential you have. You can do better if you try. But the problem is you’re unable to use your abilities freely. That’s why what we need is a “key” to awaken your powers.”
Professor Aria, lecturing like an expert. Never would she guess that she was that “key.”
“So after the hijacking incident I did some research—on multiple personalities, that is.”
Multiple personalities? Hehe. Incorrect.
Hysteria mode wasn’t a psychogenic acquired characteristic. It was a neurogenic inherited characteristic. In other words, multiple personality disorder is a completely different matter. But ... I decided to act impressed and said a few words to that effect.
“Did you now? I’m impressed you figured it out.”
Aria, by all means, continue your misdirected research.
“I studied about it in books and on the Internet. It was pretty interesting. Most likely, a trauma from your childhood days gave rise to split personalities, and the stress from combat caused your other self to manifest.”
“I see.”
“That’s what happed when your bike and the plane were hijacked, didn't it.”
“Yup.”
“Therefore, the first stage in your training will be to constantly subject you to the stress of combat,” said Aria, suddenly drawing the short katana she even had hidden in back of her cheerleader uniform.
“W-Whoa! Wait a sec!”
“What? I’ll use my pistols afterwards. Don’t worry.”
“That’s not it! If you start waving those things at me, I’m gonna wind up scattered all over this field!”
“Why don’t you try using that teaspoons amount of brains in that head of yours and think a little bit. There’s a rhythm to everything, right?” said Aria in a tone mixed with a sigh that I found particularly irksome. “The purpose of this training is to create a rhythm in which we awaken your powers by subjecting you to stress when you’re in ‘stupid Kinji mode’ and have you counterattack after those powers are awakened.”
“Counterattack ...?”
“You still don't get it? I guess it can’t be helped. I’ll break it down for you, so go ahead and cry tears of relief and joy, but clean the wax out of your ears so you can hear me.”
I think it would be kind of dangerous to cry joyfully while cleaning out one’s ears.
“Number one. You’re standing here in ‘stupid Kinji mode’ right now. Number two. Your powers awake during combat. Number three. You then counterattack. This is the ideal rhythm I’ve come up with.”