9:10 AM.
Totsuki Culinary Academy, Tokyo. The Moon Banquet Festival.
Hundreds of thousands of spectators stood in stunned silence, watching Makoto Nishikado and Nayuta sample dish after dish from the festival spread, having just returned from the other side of the Atlantic like they'd popped out for groceries.
"Um, Makoto-kun... is it really okay leaving Ran over there?"
Sonoko Suzuki couldn't hold the question any longer.
"Why? Is she in danger?"
Among everyone deployed in the field, only two people held a truly overwhelming advantage: Yu Ishigami and Reze. That was precisely why Makoto had grouped Megumi Kato, Utaha Kasumigaoka, and the Akizuki sisters into a single squad. None of them possessed the raw destructive power of those two, but each filled a role, and together they could cover one another. Problems shouldn't arise.
"No, no, it's not that." Sonoko handed him a glass of juice. "It's just that Ran's a close-range fighter. I'm worried about what happens when she runs into modern weapons."
Makoto glanced at the livestream. The multi-person squad's feed looked fine. The ones hard-carrying on that feed were still Kotonoha Katsura and Megumi Kato. Megumi hardly needed worrying about; as long as her teammates kept her physical body safe, she was untouchable. And Kotonoha even less so. Like Ishigami and Reze, as long as she had blood to replenish herself, the girl was a perpetual engine.
On the livestream, Ishigami shifted out of his Gun Fiend form back to normal and faced the camera. "Senpai, I'm done on this end. Can I move to the next one?"
Every eye turned to his feed.
The young man who, two months ago, had been a shut-in crushed by false accusations now sat atop a mountain of corpses.
The military base around him had become a wasteland. Fort Bragg, the largest installation in the United States with nearly three hundred thousand personnel, was gone. Every last one.
Makoto pulled out his phone and dialed Ishigami on voice. "The Americans' other major bases include..."
He trailed off.
A voice piped up beside him.
"Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington state. Largest base in the country by area at four hundred and ten thousand acres. Combined Army, Navy, and Air Force installation, commonly used as a staging point for deployments to Southeast Asia."
Makoto turned. A chubby kid in black-framed glasses was vibrating with excitement.
Catching his gaze, the kid immediately ducked his head. "S-sorry! I got carried away!"
"...It's fine. You heard that?" Makoto said into the phone. "Follow his directions."
On screen, Ishigami flashed the camera a nod. "Got it."
His feet transformed into gun barrels and fired, the recoil launching him skyward like a missile. The principle was similar to how Reze moved through the air, though because his limbs had to become barrels to use the technique, they couldn't bend the way human limbs did. He could only travel in straight lines, far less agile than Reze.
Makoto and Nayuta kept eating, as if the carnage unfolding across the United States had nothing to do with them.
"Makoto, how'd you set up this livestream?"
Sonoko brought up another question. "I checked just now. Everything else on YouTube is down. This is the only thing anyone can watch."
"Oh, that. I had Nayuta take control of YouTube's CEO."
A chill rippled through the crowd, especially among the likes of Shiro Suzuki, Oko Shinomiya, Maruo Nakano, and Tenma Kashiwazaki, the titans of industry in attendance.
That little girl had that kind of power?
If she could control YouTube's CEO today, what stopped her from controlling them tomorrow?
Sonoko caught the look of horror on her father's face and the faces of his fellow magnates. She barely suppressed a sneer. If they wanted to seize your assets, you think they'd need to go through all that trouble?
"Nishikado-san! Nishikado-san!"
Chika Fujiwara came sprinting over, breathless.
She'd traded her Shuchiin Academy uniform for a women's suit and pulled her hair into a ponytail. The outfit did not, however, give her the aura of a power player. She looked more like a kid raiding her mother's closet. It couldn't be helped. Chika's face was built for cute, and certain proportions of hers clashed rather violently with the word.
Anyone who knew her understood: suit meant Prime Minister mode, not student mode.
"What now?"
She swallowed hard and forced her breathing under control. "The... the American President just contacted me demanding negotiations! He says this kind of action violates the spirit of our agreement..."
"Ha ha ha ha ha!"
Nayuta, face smeared with grease from a pepper bun, burst out laughing. "Hey! Makoto, did you hear that? He says we have no respect for agreements. Ha ha ha ha!"
Makoto flicked the girl's forehead lightly and said, perfectly casual, "I didn't lay a finger on anyone. The people doing this are my subordinates. They're all Japanese, aren't they? Doesn't America know the Japanese are famous for surprise attacks?"
Everyone present, including the newly minted Prime Minister, struggled to keep a straight face.
Good thing Makoto Nishikado was the one saying that. From anyone else, they'd have suspected a Chinese spy.
Wait. Nishikado was Chinese? Then never mind.
"So... what should I tell President-san?"
Chika wrung her hands.
"Onee-chan! You're the Prime Minister! You can't run to Makoto-sama every time something comes up! What's the point of having you, then?"
Moeha Fujiwara stepped forward and shut her sister down.
Chika stared at her, existential crisis written across her face.
Whose little sister is this, exactly? Strangers would've assumed she was Makoto's.
In truth, since becoming Prime Minister, Chika had bothered Makoto far less often. She understood her sister's point. But this was too big. Not even the old guard in her cabinet could agree on a course of action.
"Tell him whatever you want," Makoto said, waving his hand. "He's welcome to mobilize more troops. Or he can drop a nuke on me. I don't care either way."
The first half of that sentence raised no eyebrows. At this point, even the dullest observer could see the chasm between the U.S. military and the Nishikado household's forces.
The second half was a different story.
Nukes.
The ultimate weapon in the human arsenal.
And Makoto Nishikado was daring the American President to drop one on his head. How confident did a person have to be?
Shiro Suzuki, Senzaemon Nakiri, and every other magnate who'd hitched their wagon to Makoto trembled with a mixture of terror and elation.
They'd known he was strong. They hadn't known he was that strong.
No wonder he'd been willing to sign a ceasefire with the President last time. That had been a courtesy, nothing more. The two sides weren't even in the same league.
"Erina! Quick, quick, bring Nishikado-sama a few more dishes!" Senzaemon waved frantically at his granddaughter.
"No need, Ojii-sama. I've got it."
Alice Nakiri glided over with a beaming smile, a plate of molecular cuisine in hand.
Senzaemon's grin froze. Right. His two granddaughters were in the middle of a cold war over this very thing.
Alice, still smiling, set two small cups in front of Makoto and Nayuta. "Here. I made chilled tapioca soup. Perfect for summer."
Chika glanced at her sister, then turned and left to respond to the President.
She was back minutes later, relaying his answer.
"Nishikado-san, President-san says... if that's how it is, then he'll take us both down together."
"Oh."
Makoto nodded, drained the chilled soup in one go, He clearly didn't take that President's threat seriously.
But even if Makoto could stay calm, plenty of others couldn't.
Those were nukes. In all of human history, they'd been deployed exactly twice. And both times, they'd fallen on Japan. The word alone was a primal terror branded into the nation's bones. Those mushroom clouds rising over Hiroshima and Nagasaki remained a nightmare this country could never shake.
And Japan did like to revise its history, but that particular chapter? Never touched. After all, they preferred casting themselves as the victim.
An inescapable nightmare. Absolutely.
And now it was about to happen again.
"Um... Nishikado-sama, aren't you going to leave?"
From the crowd, Ichika Nakano spoke up, her voice threaded with barely controlled trembling.
Makoto glanced at a face identical to Yotsuba Nakano's. "Leave to where?"
Ichika forced a smile. "Well... the American president just said he'd drop a nuke. If you're still here when it hits..."
She didn't finish. She didn't need to.
Every face in the vicinity changed.
Right. Makoto might survive a nuclear strike. But the blast radius on those things was enormous. If even one landed here, what about them?
An invisible fist clamped around every heart in the crowd.
Even Senzaemon Nakiri, who'd been preening moments ago, felt his throat go dry.
Shiro Suzuki turned a shade paler, a sheen of cold sweat forming on his brow.
Every eye converged on the man still sitting in the same spot, eating a dessert Alice had handed him.
Move! Please, just move!
The scream echoed through a hundred thousand minds, but not a single person dared voice it.