If you looked at a map, you’d see a semicircle of islands stretching across the Pacific from the Empire’s mainland to the Southeast.
Those were the Jogen Islands.
Survivors of the Jave attack on the capital evacuated and settled on those southern islands, and that was where Okegawa Kuon was born, inheriting the soul of the former Hero.
By the time he was two, he was gradually learning to speak. His first word was “choco,” for “chocolate.” He’d loved it in his previous life, but rarely managed to get any during the war.
His next word was “Gate.”
There was a saying that words hold power. Even if that wasn’t true, saying things aloud could remind you of your purpose.
At two years and four months old, Kuon had realized the meaning of his rebirth.
He, Okegawa Kuon, had been reborn to kill the Queen when she returned. To drive the Jave out of our world for good.
Maybe because he’d come in contact with the Queen’s soul back in that Gate, he had a sense of how much time he had until then.
Twenty years. That was roughly how long it would take the Queen’s wounds to heal.
Two years and four months had already passed, so he only had seventeen years left. He had to make himself strong by then.
In his past life, Hachishiki had lost. Even with the Hero’s magic level, he’d been unable to win. He’d failed to take out the Queen for good, allowing her to escape.
This was now the life where he had to finish the job.
Okegawa Kuon swore an oath, staring at his chubby little two-year-old palm. His parents squealed about how noble he looked, snapping a ton of pictures, and he struck the coolest pose he could manage, the attention not entirely unwelcome.
To kill the Queen, he needed strength.
He needed a Division Maneuver.
The world’s primary combat weapon, its effectiveness against the Jave had proven to be the salvation of mankind. In his previous life, he’d enrolled in his homeland’s air force and became a Division Maneuver pilot (a Maneuver Cavalleria). His unparalleled talent had made him their ace.
He had to pilot one again. There was no other way for him to kill the Jave Queen.
Right, Kuon thought. First off, I need to tell them I’m the Hero.
But that was the hard part. Nobody believed he was Suzuka Hachishiki’s reincarnation. “I’m the Hero born again!” he told his mother, and she just laughed. “Kuon wants to be a hero!” She didn’t take him seriously. He got angry and tried explaining it logically, but he couldn’t put it into words, so all he could manage was, “It’s true! I’m the Hero!”
He could think it, but he couldn’t communicate it. It was frustrating. Was it always this hard being a child? That was a depressing thought. He ate dinner and forgot about it.
Meanwhile, he learned something from watching Jogen TV.
Thanks to the Hero, no Gates had opened in the last few years. The Gate above the capital was one of several Gates in the Empire, but all were covered in a dark mist which prevented anyone from seeing inside. Occasionally, stray Jave would appear nearby, but these were quickly exterminated by the Maneuver Cavalleria. Mankind was currently living in relative peace.
The million or so residents displaced from the capital to the Jogen Islands were growing accustomed to life there.
On these islands, they no longer gathered orphaned children and trained them to be Maneuver Cavalleria the way they had with Hachishiki. It seemed they were training Cavalleria on a volunteer basis, preparing for emergencies.
They were now the military elite, as becoming a Cavalleria afforded you any number of privileges within the Empire. In emergencies, you’d be sent into battle, but experts said it would be a while before the capital’s Gate reopened. Even children thought the Division Maneuver looked cool.
For that reason, several children began receiving training to be Maneuver Cavalleria from a very young age. Kuon was part of that first generation.
When the Queen returns, I’ll kill her, destroy the Gate, and banish the Jave from our world, he thought.
To do that, he had to get his new body accustomed to the Division Maneuver. His arms and legs were still short, and he had little to no muscle, but childhood had given him one advantage: He was quick to learn. If he trained hard now, he could be even stronger than he’d been in his previous life.
It was no dream; it was a firm belief with a clear purpose.
On his fifth birthday, Kuon begged his parents (on his hands and knees, which they mistook for a hilarious new game) to take him to the Division Maneuver training grounds so they could buy him a junior frame.
However, when Kuon pointed to the frame he wanted, a man in a white lab coat shook his head. “Okegawa Kuon-kun, I’m afraid you’re unable to operate this.”
The frame hanging in the functionally-designed hanger was a special one that stood out from the other junior frames. It was a Division 5 frame.
Kuon didn’t get it. He felt like he was being told to stop at a green light.
“This happens a lot,” the scientist said, scratching his head. Perhaps he just assumed all children went for the strongest-looking frame.
But he was the Hero, Suzuka Hachishiki, born again!
Oblivious to Kuon’s confusion, the scientist pointed to the mountain of mass-produced frames to the left, then past those to the beat-up old frames lying in a corner out of the way. “Your magic level is 1. That’s only good enough for those old ones. As long as you’re just walking around.”
It took Kuon quite a long time to understand these words, process them, and understand the predicament he was in.
Wait, he thought to himself. Calm down. Take it one step at a time.
Humans had life energy—magical energy—and they used that to operate Division Maneuver. One’s magic capacity was set at birth and was impossible to increase later in life. This value was called the Potential Magic Value.
Suzuka Hachishiki’s value had been abnormally high. Most humans in the world were Division 2 (Magic Value 10-99). If you were Division 3 (Magic Value 100-999), you could brag about it at school. Division 4 (1000-9999) was so rare there were probably fewer than a hundred in the entire Empire. Hachishiki’s Magic Value had been 88,888, which made him the highest possible Division: 5. At the time, he was said to be the only one.
Your Division determined the functionality of the Division Maneuver—your raw strength. The stronger your magic value, the more magic you could produce, and you could operate stronger, more advanced frames. Those with very little magic had a low power output and could only operate low spec frames. To be a Cavalleria, you had to be Division 2 or above. They didn’t even make frames a Division 1 could operate.
Then… Then I can’t be a Cavalleria, Kuon realized. So why was I reborn?!
If he wasn’t a Cavalleria, he couldn’t defeat a single Jave, let alone close the Gate. He’d suffered through early childhood for five long years and had thought he could finally, finally…
He felt a burning behind his nose. Five-year-old Kuon tried standing up to the wave of emotion, but there was no holding it back. He was a man, a Hero reborn; he’d been alive longer than either of his parents; but those words crashed against the levee with such force they soon broke through.
Kuon cried, howling like a little baby again.
No other children were this upset by it. The scientist freaked out a bit. He could handle sulking, but full-on crying clearly made him panic.
Then, a very small woman came walking by, her words like a whip. “Don’t cry, you fool.”
No words wasted, no mercy shown. A phrase polished like she’d said it hundreds, even thousands of times. But that was all it took to stop Kuon’s tears in their tracks, even though he’d been too young to control them himself. This verbal attack carved its way into his very soul.
Kuon spun around to see…
… a pair of boobs, attached to a woman who definitely looked like she belonged in junior high. She had a baby face, petite frame, short black hair, and was rocking a tiny suit that must have been custom tailored. When she put a hand on her hip and puffed out her chest, her nonsensically-huge breasts jiggled.
Were… Were these loli big boobs? Kuon thought. No, wait…she looks like a little girl, but she’s definitely already gone through pu—
“Yo, little brat. You aren’t thinking any dumb crap about my life experiences, are you?”
How did she know?!
Kuon realized suddenly that he knew this girl—or rather, Suzuka Hachishiki had. He knew exactly who this murderously scowling dynamo was.
“Master?”
She was Hachishiki’s former master, Nanahoshi Kaede.
Hachishiki had found Kaede intolerable, worse than any demon or devil or Jave. She was the most powerful Cavalleria mankind had, the master of Shichisei Kenbu.
Kuon stared up at her, mouth open. Kaede looked him over.
“Those eyes, that dumb face, that magic… You’re exactly like that idiot student.”
He thought his heart would stop. “Master! It’s me! I’m Hachishiki!”
At last he’d found someone who would understand he was the Hero reborn, and it was his former master. If he explained what was going on and got her on board, she could solve everything.
But Kaede put her hand on her chin, fixing him with a look of deep suspicion. “You don’t say?” She snarled like a loan shark in an old movie. “Hachishikiii? Dunno any Hachishiki. Who’s that again?”
“Suzuka Hachishiki! Your best student!”
“Suzuka Hachishikiii? You can’t mean him. That idiot ignored what I said, and I had to kick his ass out.”
“Yes! That same idiot!”
“…Is you?”
“Yes!”
Kaede’s eyes turned to ice. Her tone was every bit as frosty. “Right…”
Kuon shivered, every inch of him trembling. He didn’t know why, but he was convinced he was moments from death.
“Right, Hachishiki. There is one thing I never tried with him.”
He didn’t dare ask what.
“Kuon!”
As Kuon stood paralyzed with fear, his mother came running. Saved in the nick of time, Kuon thought. But when she realized he was talking to humanity’s strongest Cavalleria, she started talking for him. He stood frozen stiff, listening to their conversation like it was happening very far away, too scared to speak himself.
“Nanahoshi-san, my boy wants to be a Cavalleria. He’s Division 1, but he insists he’s going to be a hero.”
At this, Nanahoshi Kaede looked down at Kuon and smiled. “Fascinating.”
Her smile was terrifying.
He didn’t know why, but once again, he was certain he was about to die.