The Last Magic Chapter 9

09 Kurosaki Natsuki 2

After taking off my coat and draping my scarf over the back of the chair, I pulled out my magic book from my bag. These kinds of books are passed down through each sorcerer’s family, and from what I’ve heard, their contents are all fairly similar. They’re probably like inherited family recipes, but for magic.

“Well then, let’s begin.”

As I announced this, Sakurako quietly closed her own magic book and straightened her posture.

“Yes.”

We started with the incantation. 

Since it’s akin to singing, finding a suitable place can be surprisingly difficult—but at this time, the clubroom was empty, so it wasn’t an issue.

I steadied my breathing and began chanting the spell slowly, softly, letting it blend into the natural sounds around us—like the babbling of a stream or leaves rustling in the wind. Gradually, the indistinct murmurs solidified into clear words. Spells only take effect when their purity is high.

The concept of “purity” here is hard to explain, but I suppose you could call it a mind free of distractions—a state where nothing else exists in your thoughts except the miracle you’re invoking. Of course, I remained entirely focused while chanting. That’s how I’ve trained all this time, after all.

After nearly five minutes, a warmth flickered in my heart—not my body, but my heart. Somewhere beyond this place. Yet it wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest.

The moment had come.

I gently raised my index finger. At its tip, a pale blue flame ignited.

This instant was bliss. Magic was undeniably a miracle. Of course, in this modern age, lighting a fire isn’t anything special. But achieving it without any tools? That shouldn’t be possible.

The human body shouldn’t generate the kind of energy that could produce fire.

They say science has unraveled magic, but in truth, all we’ve learned is the extent of what can be done—not the fundamental principles. Because scientifically, it’s an impossible phenomenon.

Whether it’s useful or not isn’t the point. Magic is wonderful simply for being magic. That’s something only sorcerer would understand. As I basked in the slight happiness of materializing magic, Sakurako spoke softly.

“Natsuki-senpai, that was a beautiful flame.”

“Thank you, Sakurako-san. Did you notice anything?”

“The flow of your incantation has become much more natural. But because of that, it might lack impact a little. Maybe you could incorporate more gestures to draw attention?”

We were in this clubroom to show each other our magic—to hone our skills as sorcerers.

This was something Sakurako had suggested when she joined the literature club. “Would you like to practice magic together?”

At first, I hesitated. Magic is “a flower that blooms in secrecy.” There’s something about keeping it hidden that preserves its essence as magic. Even now, after science has stripped away its surface mysteries, that hasn’t changed. Even among fellow sorcerers, we don’t reveal our full hand.

But Sakurako insisted. “Practicing magic with someone else helps you notice things you wouldn’t on your own. Improving your magic alone is difficult, isn’t it? Besides, sorcerers aren’t meant to compete with each other—we’re meant to reach greater heights together.”

That convinced me. Ah, this girl isn’t trying to make a living off magic—she’s using it with a clear purpose in mind.

If that was the case, then I had no reason to hesitate about training with someone. As for me… I still hadn’t found my purpose. Whether that was fortunate or not, I didn’t know. But seeing Sakurako, so resolute, made her shine in my eyes. Because that’s how a sorcerer should be.

Another thing we had in common was that neither of our parents approved of us pursuing magic. Back in the Shōwa era, sorcerers weren’t seen in such a bad light, but during Heisei, a new religious group involving sorcerers was tied to a terrorist incident. After that, magic was viewed as something sinister for a while.

That’s why, even if our parents inherited sorcerer blood, many of their generation chose not to become sorcerers themselves. Mine and Sakurako’s included. Nowadays, things have settled somewhat, and prejudice against magic is fading.

I took Sakurako’s advice to heart. Ah, so it’s not just about perfecting the incantation. Alone, I probably wouldn’t have realized that.

“Thank you. Well then, it’s your turn next.”

As I said this, Sakurako stood up smoothly and took a breath. Even that simple gesture felt calculated, carrying an air of solemnity, like a sacred ritual.

Her chant had a melody closer to a song. If mine was like healing music, hers was emotional. Neither was better or worse.

But there was something in it that tugged at emotions you wouldn’t expect from her usual self. It was something I could never replicate. Still, there was much to learn—not just the singing, but the way she moved her body, her expressions. Watching another sorcerer’s incantation was full of lessons.

Sakurako conjured a cherry-blossom-colored flame above her palm. The color of the fire was part of the performance—a test of the caster’s sense. Of course, magic wasn’t limited to fire; you could summon water or wind, but fire was surprisingly the easiest to clean up afterward. As long as the room’s sprinklers didn’t react.

With a soft exhale, the pink flame scattered like falling petals before vanishing. A flawless performance.

“How was it?” 

Sakurako looked straight at me. Her eyes burned with hunger—“I want to aim higher.”

“Given how long you’ve been practicing since elementary school, your incantation is perfect. Your singing style is a little old-fashioned, but with some adjustments, it won’t be a problem. The only thing left is your body movement. You’ve never been in a sports club, have you? You’re not uncoordinated, but you should move more sharply. It’ll make a better impression.”

“Body movement… like the running you do, Senpai?”

“That’s the basics. You might also get some ideas from idol dances. There are plenty of videos online.”

These days, you can find anything on the internet. It’s easy to incorporate the latest trends.

“Dances? I might lose focus on the incantation. And it feels a little… distant from the essence of magic.”

For once, Sakurako looked uneasy. Dancing was probably a no-go for her because imagery was crucial in magic. In her mind, it just didn’t fit.

“You don’t have to dance wildly. It’s just my opinion—you can start by watching a few. You’ve never seen any before, right?”

“Yeah…”

She lacked confidence. Magic had been her sole focus, untouched by the things normal girls found interesting. That earnestness was both her strength and her flaw.

“A first-rate sorcerer should make people believe she’s a sorcerer even without using magic. To do that, you have to absorb all kinds of knowledge. You’ll reach that level someday too, won’t you? Like your grandmother.”

“…Right.”

Sakurako’s grandmother had been a famous sorcerer in her own way—she had her final spell-last magic broadcast on television. Any sorcerer would understand the significance of that.

Personally, I’d rather not use my last magic if I could help it. But Sakurako was aiming to walk the same path as her grandmother.