“But they’re more expensive than you think,” Nishimiya said. “You can’t get too into them. I got obsessed with these ugly-but-cute cat keychains and ended up blowing a bunch of money.”
“I realized Momo is the type who should never play pachinko,” Mai said.
“Don’t make me sound so seedy, Mai!” Nishimiya chided with a pout.
Mai stifled a laugh.
Kokichi thought about how nice it was to have peers.
“Anyway, we stumbled across these capsule toys. We were surprised to see they had Mechamaru ones!” Nishimiya said.
“Yes, I’m surprised too,” Mechamaru replied.
Of course, the keychain didn’t look like Ultimate Mechamaru. It portrayed a more heroic robot from a well-known anime. In fact, it was the iconic robot in the anime that Kokichi, who operated Mechamaru, had once admired and been so crazy about. It was the source of his highest aspirations.
“Mai said we definitely had to use it to decorate you,” Miwa said, at which Mai covered her mouth and laughed.
“It’s all right, isn’t it?” Mai asked. In English, she said, “Mechamaru on Mechamaru. It suits you! Bwa ha ha!”
“It’s not that funny, Mai,” Miwa said. “Besides, is ‘on’ even the right English preposition there?”
Mechamaru raised his right arm and looked at the robot character dangling on its chain. At that moment, the wind changed and the clouds parted. The sudden brightening of the sun made Kokichi squint.
“It’s time, Mechamaru,” Assistant Manager Tanabe called from the other side of the hall.
Caressing his right arm as if it were precious, Mechamaru lowered his sleeve, covering his new ornament.
“See you later!”
Mechamaru had already turned his back, so he couldn’t see the speaker’s expression. However, the tone of voice and the emotion it carried resounded through him.
“Thank you. I’ll be back,” Kokichi said. As he spoke, he realized his words sounded like a promise to return to his schoolmates.
The trees passing by the car window resembled a person racing through life. Tanabe and Kokichi’s destination had once been a public facility, so it could be reached by car; however, given that the curse user’s cursed technique involved controlling automobiles, it might not be wise to drive too close. For that reason, Mechamaru decided he would disembark partway there and walk the rest of the not-inconsiderable distance to the site. Tanabe looked apologetic and had trouble accepting this decision, but Mechamaru told him not to worry about it.
This was no time for enjoying the scenery, but the colorful mountains caught Kokichi’s attention. Under the trees, whose leaves blocked the rain, a bird that looked like it was wearing a little necktie hopped over a carpet of fallen leaves. That was a Japanese tit, Tanabe had said as they passed, and Kokichi had turned over the name in his head.
Now Mechamaru walked along a route he had studied beforehand. A faint wind was blowing, and it was raining. Birds took shelter in the trees and insects crawled under fallen leaves.
Kokichi hadn’t set a foot outside his room, so all he could do was gaze out through Mechamaru’s eyes, but that was how he interacted with the world. If his body healed, would he be able to experience nature and its countless life-forms with his own senses?
Come to think of it, that gorilla-like panda had said he would come to visit Kokichi. Panda himself didn’t have the kind of physical form that could just go gallivanting around in the open, so Kokichi wondered how he intended to visit. Panda looked so much like a panda that he didn’t even wear clothes the way Mechamaru did. Kokichi tried to picture Panda wearing a hoodie, jeans, and a hat to board the bullet train. If he did it boldly, he just might get away with it. Kokichi surprised himself by smiling, but he knew this daydream would never come to pass. He didn’t know what to call the feeling arising within him, so he pondered it for a moment.
That was careless.
As he reached a crossroads, he suddenly heard an engine. A red sedan with a bent license plate was glaring at him. It took off toward him, racing down the slope of the road, a metal box accelerating under the force of gravity. Its trajectory was simple, but its area and mass made it a threat.
Mechamaru had no choice but to take drastic evasive action. He was in the mountains, so he could dive into the trees to avoid a collision. Still on a course for Mechamaru, the sedan slammed into a tree and stopped. Mechamaru watched as the crash caused birds to burst from branches.
“What a welcome,” Mechamaru said.
He stayed off the road as he continued through the trees toward his destination. Since the enemy was deploying a considerable attack, he would be safer with obstacles around. However, the closer he drew to the curse user’s base, the fewer obstacles there would be.
As he walked, a change came over the branches of the trees around him. The leaves were dead and black instead of green tinged with red. Previously, everything had taken on a white cast in the drizzle, but now it seemed murky because of the gas. Eventually the trees thinned out, the view opened up, and he entered an open area.
The scene before him looked like an automobile graveyard. Some vehicles retained their original form, while others were nothing but piles of junk. Deep in his gas-obscured field of vision, beyond a mound of scrap metal, Mechamaru saw a building that looked like a factory.
“Would a curse user hide in a factory?” he wondered.
Abandoned cars surrounded the area, which, given the curse user’s technique, put Mechamaru at a disadvantage. The curse user was likely to notice any intruder who stood there gawking, and Mechamaru wouldn’t be surprised if the enemy used that moment to escape.
But to catch a lion cub, you had to enter the lion’s den, so Mechamaru remained on high alert and advanced into the junkyard. His metal humanoid form traversed this labyrinth of abandoned cars, a forest of rusted, decrepit steel. It was like a graveyard full of black gas, showing no signs of life. Aside from his own heavy footfalls, it was eerily silent.
Kokichi was considering the significance of the quiet when a small form darted in between abandoned cars. It was a remote control car, he realized. It was making a faint noise as it raced along. A shikigami was riding in it, sitting next to a box-shaped device that the curse user had apparently strapped into where the seats were.
Kokichi had known that the enemy’s cursed technique involved manipulating automobiles, so he had expected that the curse user would use the mass of full-sized cars to crush him to death. This curse user, however, appeared to be able to employ a variety of modern technologies.
Mechamaru pointed his arm toward the remote control car. “What a small target!” he exclaimed.
His left palm opened, revealing the device that fired the Ultra Cannon. Suppressing the output, Mechamaru immediately found his aim and fired. The blast struck, and the remote control car went up in flames. The next moment, there was a bright flash and an explosion much larger than what could have been generated by a mere battery-powered toy.
“I suspected as much. Explosives!” Mechamaru remarked.
Mechamaru planted both feet on the ground to withstand the blast. Just then, he spotted two—no, three remote control cars racing toward him, using the roofs of the abandoned cars as ramps to launch themselves across the junkyard. Mechamaru had been careful to restrict the Ultra Cannon’s output, but he still barely had time to reload. In the nick of time, he brought up his hand and fired again.
Even at reduced output, Ultra Cannon wasn’t supposed to fire consecutive shots, but Mechamaru mowed down the remote control cars anyway, swinging his arm without bothering to brace against the recoil.
“It seems the curse user has prepared considerable defenses,” he commented.
Kokichi was beginning to sense the gravity of the situation. He couldn’t possibly defend against exploding remote control cars with close-range armaments like Sword Option and Ultra Shield. Thus, he had no choice but to shoot. As he rapidly alternated between cooling and firing, though, the burden on his arm was mounting. Furthermore, a remote control car exploded near him, and the blast limited the space in which he could maneuver. Mechamaru had saved armament for use later, but that put him at a disadvantage against an enemy this relentless with their attacks.
Mechamaru exercised direct control over puppets. In the case of a cursed technique that used shikigami as the substrate for controlling machines, however, the number of shikigami was limited to the number of cars the curse user could control at any particular moment. That meant there had to be a break in the attacks. When that break came, Mechamaru could follow the route by which the shikigami returned to the curse user and pinpoint their master’s location. However, Kokichi decided that focusing on withstanding the enemy’s attacks was wisest for the time being.
Just then, from beyond the flames of the explosions from the remote control cars, a giant shadow fell across the mountain of abandoned cars. A tanker truck was hurtling toward Mechamaru.
“So that’s how it is, huh?!” he exclaimed.
The essence of the enemy’s cursed technique was that the curse user could manipulate any kind of automobile, and that leeway allowed for a broad range of attacks. The explosions had maneuvered Mechamaru into a position where he would have little room to evade the falling tanker. Even if he did so, he might lose an arm or a leg.
Mechamaru needed to take out the curse user who was deploying the shikigami. He was almost overheating, but since he didn’t have many long-range attacks, he couldn’t afford to lose Ultra Cannon. Preserving his left arm was necessary for victory.
Having made his decision, Mechamaru evaded in a way that could result in losing his right arm instead. However, he hesitated.
In the next instant, there was an explosion several times more powerful than the explosions from the remote control cars. The blast burned Mechamaru’s uniform and sent him flying. He ended up rolling on the ground.
He had used his all-important left arm to shield himself from the powerful blast and ended up sacrificing it in the process. Without even realizing it, he had protected his right arm.
“Aw …” he muttered.
The burnt sleeve now exposed Mechamaru’s right wrist, causing him to realize why he had moved in such an irrational way. The keychain on the scrunchie attached to his right arm rattled as it dangled there.
“It appears you have realized your mistake,” a voice said.
“Must be the curse user …” Mechamaru speculated.
The voice was coming from the stereo of a nearby abandoned car. Though indistinct, it suggested someone younger than Mechamaru had imagined. The curse user didn’t sound worried. They knew that Mechamaru had messed up.