The Last Magic Chapter 3

03 Kato

In fifth grade, there were two oddballs in my class—Shiba Rin and Nagumo Sakurako.

When you hear "oddballs," you might imagine someone who wears short sleeves and shorts even in winter, someone who memorizes the capitals of every country, or someone who’s freakishly good at drawing—just slightly unusual people. But these two weren’t like that. They had such distinct personalities, they could’ve stepped right out of an anime or manga.

Shiba always tied her hair back in a single ponytail, a straightforward girl straight out of a shounen manga.

She was ridiculously athletic, cheerful, and good at talking—basically the center of the class. But she was also strong-willed and quick to throw hands (though only with guys).

Still, her impulsiveness wasn’t just about fighting. If she thought something was right, she’d do it immediately. If she thought something was wrong, she’d never do it. Because of that, she had this… reliability about her.

For example, class duties were always handled by two students each day. Once, when it was my turn, the other person was absent.

(Why do I have to do this all by myself? Ugh, what a pain…)

I remember begrudgingly erasing the chalkboard during recess when, out of nowhere, Shiba—who had been laughing loudly just moments ago—appeared beside me and started cleaning the board too.

Not just her—even the guys she’d been talking with pitched in while continuing their chatter. The job ended way faster than usual.

"Uh… thanks…"

Embarrassed to be helped by a girl, I muttered my gratitude quietly.

"Don’t mention it. Just pay me back someday, in action," 

she said, flashing a mischievous cat-like grin before rejoining her friends.

—And just like that, I was done for.

I wasn’t the only one. Most of the guys in class had fallen victim to that same charm.

At first glance, she wasn’t that pretty, but the more you looked, the more you’d realize—wait, she’s actually kinda cute? It was weird. Plus, she had this habit of casually touching people—guys and girls alike—which made everyone self-aware around her.

During the boys’ room chat at the school camp, when the topic of "Who do you like?" came up, Shiba’s name was the first to surface. Sure, part of it was because she was an easy answer personality-wise, but I think most of us were genuinely serious.

By the way, a lot of the girls liked her too. And I could see why. She was the kind of person you just wanted to be around, even without any romantic feelings involved.

Me? I was gloomy, always on the sidelines. But Shiba was like a bright lightbulb, illuminating even the darkest corners of the classroom. Thanks to her, people like me never got left out, and in her class, bullying just… didn’t happen.

That said, Shiba wasn’t some paragon of righteousness. She just did what she wanted and played favorites—hard. And there was always one absolute favorite.

That was Nagumo.

If Shiba was the protagonist, Nagumo was the cool, villainous type.

The kind who eventually becomes the protagonist’s ally and gains popularity.

She had unnaturally long, straight black hair cut bluntly just above her eyes, an always-serious expression, and sharp, piercing eyes.

My mom once said after parent-teacher day, "She’s not a pretty girl." But to us, she was more… intimidating. And the fact that her grandmother was supposedly a sorcerer? Yeah, her character was too strong.

Rumor had it her grandmother dressed like a sorcerer and ran a shady fortune-telling shop in a basement near Urayasu Station.

Our elementary school was on the reclaimed land side, so we usually used Shin-Urayasu Station. The original Urayasu Station felt like a whole other town.

Still, I had a chance to go there once, and curiosity got the better of me—I went looking for Nagumo’s grandmother’s shop.

The area is clean now, but back then, the river near the station stank horribly. I rode my bike in circles through that vomit-inducing stench until I found it—an old building with a fortune-telling sign out front. The shop was in the basement.

But just peeking down the staircase was enough. It was dark, creepy—I noped out immediately.

(I’m a wimp, what can I say?)

Making excuses to myself, I thought, "Yeah, Nagumo’s definitely shady."

Nagumo excelled effortlessly in both studies and sports.

Not in a "born talented like Shiba" way, but in a "works hard to master everything flawlessly" way.

Most kids would either downplay their skills or exaggerate for laughs, but Nagumo? No pretenses. If she could do something, she’d say it outright.

If someone flattered her with, "Nagumo-san, you’re so smart!"

She’d deadpan, "I study properly every day."

To us elementary schoolers, that was… annoying. No, scratch that—it’d be annoying at any age.

On top of that, she barely talked to anyone. During breaks, she’d read alone. And her book? Bound in black leather, looking way too ominous—apparently, it was about studying magic.

She radiated "stay away" energy, and no one dared get close.

But every class has that one socially clueless kid. Ours was Gotou.

One day, he walked up to Nagumo while she was reading and...

"Hey, you’re always reading. That some kinda creepy book?"

He said it bluntly.

The classroom froze. Dude. That’s a landmine you do not step on. Why would you—

Nagumo glanced at him, about to say something, but Shiba got there first. Literally got there first—as in, she dropkicked Gotou in the back.

He flew so cleanly, you’d think it was staged for a variety show.

"Shut up, Gotou," Shiba declared like a righteous action hero. "Sakura’s studying hard to become a sorcerer. I wanna see her magic. Get in her way again, and I won’t hold back."

Shiba and Nagumo didn’t talk much in class, but there was this invisible bond—if something involved Nagumo, Shiba would launch into action.

Gotou, like everyone else, had a thing for Shiba, so he probably took the kick as part of her charm.

"Ow, Shiba! That hurt!"

But he looked more pleased than pained.

I caught Nagumo’s reaction too—she was smiling awkwardly. Huh. So she can make that face.

---

One winter afternoon after school, Sakurako Nagumo and I were the only ones left in the classroom—something about being on the same committee or assigned to the same task. I don’t really remember what we were doing. But I remember vividly the sunset bleeding through the classroom windows.

Sakurako worked with brisk efficiency while I floundered, my usual incompetence on full display. The awkwardness was unbearable.

Then, after finishing her share, she wordlessly started on my part of the work.

(“Useless fool!”)

I could practically hear her mentally scolding me. It stung.

Desperate to break the suffocating silence, I scrambled for a topic. 

And then—

“Hey, Nagumo… Your Grandmother does fortune-telling near Urayasu Station, right? I’ve seen her shop.”

I blurted out.

The second it left my mouth, I wanted to die. Why did I say that?! She’d think I was some tactless idiot. Tonight, I’d lie awake drowning in regret, “Guys like me should just shut up forever.” I knew the drill.

But Sakurako answered as evenly as ever:

“Yes. If you’ve got troubles, you should visit. Her reviews are good.”

Her voice carried a hint of something lighter than usual.

Encouraged, I pushed further:

“…Does she use magic to tell fortunes?”

“Magic can’t do that. Grandmother’s readings just… give people a little nudge in the right direction.”

“So it’s not even real magic?”

(Then it’s just a scam.) Probably, people went there expecting magic to solve their problems.

“Kato-kun, what do you think magic is?”

Sakurako fixed me with a sharp look—or maybe it just seemed sharp. Maybe that was just her face. For some reason, I only noticed it now. Maybe because I was seeing her head-on for the first time.

“Uh… chanting spells to do weird stuff? Like making fire or water. Heard it’s not even that useful.”

“Wrong, Kato-kun. Magic is… whatever someone believes is magic.”

She sounded like a slick adult dodging the question.

“What kinda answer is that? Then anything could be magic! You’re saying it doesn’t even have to be real?”

“Yes. That’s how it’s always been.”

Her gaze drifted to the sunset outside.

“That’s what magic is. People dissect it now—‘Oh, it’s actually this, actually that’—but the magic we imagine? It’s just a prop. A tiny push toward something greater.”

“Then why  are you studying it? If it’s just a prop, what’s the point?”

“Because I want to. Got a problem with that?”

She flashed a defiant, embarrassed smile—and in that moment, she was so beautiful my internal “Crush Rankings” got reshuffled.

(God, grade-school boys are so easy.) …No, maybe men never outgrow that.

We’re tragic creatures. A little kindness is all it takes to make us delusional.

After that, I never shared a class with Shiba and Nagumo again.

But for some reason, I still remember those days with them clearer than anything else.