The Last Magic Prologue

The Last Magic

Raw : https://ncode.syosetu.com/n9426ka/

In the modern age, sorcerers still exist. But magic, as a labor-intensive art, has been pushed to the fringes of society by science. If you need fire, there’s gas. If you need water, there’s the tap. Magic, which demands both time and effort, is nothing but inconvenient.

Because of this, people mocked sorcerers—though deep down, they still feared them, whispering, "What if they really can do something?"

Sakurako Nagumo, whose grandmother was a sorcerer, longed to become one herself. But faced with opposition from those around her, she couldn’t take that first step.

The one who pushed her forward was her childhood friend, Rin Shiba.

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CONTINUE

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Prologue

My high school is in Shibuya.

When people hear "Shibuya," they probably imagine the scramble crossing outside Shibuya Station. But my school is closer to Jingu Stadium, in a quieter part of town.

Still, it is the city. The roads are busy, and the traffic lights take noticeably longer than back home in Urayasu.

So, while waiting at the crosswalk in front of the school, I got absorbed in conversation with my friend. We’d known each other since elementary school, so the topics never ran dry.

When I glanced at the signal, it had just turned green.

Seizing the perfect timing, I stepped forward—only for a hand to yank me back by the arm.

A car sped past right in front of me.

Behind the wheel was a young woman, phone in hand, chatting away. 

She hadn’t even noticed the red light.

A mix of fear—that was close—and anger at her terrible driving manners twisted in my chest. I turned to thank the friend who’d grabbed me.

"Thanks. How’d you even notice?"

"Because I’m a sorcerer."

Sakurako smiled.

Her grip on my arm was still firm.

Nagumo Sakurako. A girl whose name and appearance both carried an old-fashioned charm.

Her long, beautiful black hair made her look like a Japanese doll, and she was tall and slender. Her posture was perfectly straight—almost samurai-like. Sakurako shot a sharp glance in the direction the car had gone before striding confidently across the crosswalk.

"That driver was 100% at fault, but you should still be more careful, Rin. Even if it’s their mistake, the one who gets hurt is you."

Sakurako was always like this—unfailingly correct. And because she was this way with everyone, she wasn’t exactly popular with the other girls. Conversation thrives on empathy, not righteousness. As for boys? Well… that was complicated.

—Because Sakurako was a real sorcerer in the modern age.

The mere fact that she was a sorcerer made boys approach her out of curiosity, so she was always a little guarded. And if I’m being honest, I was the same at first.

My first meeting with Sakurako went back to elementary school.

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Elementary school entrance ceremony. During the principal’s long speech, a girl with long, beautiful black hair stood out in our class line. She wasn’t just cute—she had this sharp, dignified aura.

Of course, that was Sakurako.

Even my mom, ignoring her own daughter, muttered, "Oh, what a cool girl."

Then, a kid from our apartment building told me:

"Hey, I heard her grandma’s a sorcerer."

After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

In our local schools, seat order was determined by birthday. 

Lucky for me, I was born one day earlier than Sakurako, so I sat right in front of her.

I remember fidgeting with excitement, willing the teacher to finish talking. But once the lecture ended, I immediately spun around and asked:

"Can you use magic?"

"No. Only my grandmother can. My parents can’t."

Her face was expressionless, like a Noh mask, and her tone was oddly calm for a child. But that didn’t deter my fearless elementary-schooler curiosity.

"Will you be able to someday?"

"...You don’t know? Magic only lasts ten seconds. It’s not useful at all."

Back then, I knew magic existed, but not what it was actually like. I imagined it like the wizards in cartoons—flying on brooms, defeating villains with spells, that kind of thing.

But real sorcerers were different.

People used to think magic was amazing, but as modern research advanced, they realized it wasn’t actually that impressive.

Even if you chanted a long spell with all your might, all you’d get was a tiny flame or a trickle of water—lasting only about ten seconds. Compared to just turning on a faucet or lighting a stove, sorcerers had almost no practical use. Worse, magic got exploited by fraudsters and cults, giving it a bad reputation.

But as a first-grader, I didn’t know any of that.

*"Ten seconds is plenty! Even the fastest runners take about ten seconds for a 100-meter dash! That’s a long time!"*

Looking back, I have no idea what I was saying.

"Ten seconds is… long?"

Sakurako’s Noh mask cracked, replaced by a childlike look of confusion.

It was so adorable it made me happy. I wanted to see more of that face, so I nodded vigorously, like a bobblehead.

"Long! Plenty long for a miracle!"

At my over-the-top reaction, Sakurako looked down.

"But I can’t use magic. It takes years of training, and my parents say I’d be better off studying or playing sports."

"Huh? Really? But magic’s cool, isn’t it? Just being able to use it is amazing! I mean, sports are great, but they don’t actually help with anything, right? Baseball, soccer—they’re basically just games. Studying… well, that’s probably good, but my point is, things are only ‘amazing’ because people say they are. So if I think magic’s amazing, then it is!"

"...I think magic is amazing too."

Almost like she was sharing a secret, Sakurako said it shyly.

"Then you’re gonna be a sorcerer when you grow up!"

Irresponsibly, I’d just decided my new classmate’s future.

But Sakurako graciously laughed—"Hehe."

It made me so happy, I decided right then: I’m gonna be this girl’s friend.

—

Sakurako stood out in every way.

Her looks were striking, but she was also great at sports and schoolwork. A total overachiever.

Most kids would’ve been popular for that, but in Sakurako’s case…

"She’s probably using magic, right?"

…That’s what people whispered. Her stiff personality didn’t help either. Hell, even my mom said it once:

"Oh my, she’s incredible. Maybe she’s using magic?"

I don’t think she meant any harm.

But I snapped.

"Sakurako’s still a novice—she can’t even use magic yet! And she’d never cheat like that!"

Calling her a "novice" wasn’t exactly helping, but in my mind, Sakurako was both my best friend and someone I admired. A "If I don’t protect her, who will?" feeling had taken root.

My outburst shocked my mom so much she backpedaled:

"I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… she’s so incredible, I couldn’t help wondering…"

I still remember her flustered excuse.

In reality, research had already proven magic couldn’t be used for cheating.

It couldn’t make you smarter. And while it could enhance physical abilities, chanting the spell took way too long—

Specifically, about five minutes. That's the length of a song.

The effect? Ten seconds.

And you had to enunciate the spell perfectly for it to work.

I once saw a variety show testing this for laughs.

A male sorcerer tried using magic to win a sports competition against a comedian who’d been a high school baseball star.

Before a sprint, the sorcerer muttered his spell under his breath. The studio audience was already laughing, and his opponent called him out:

"Hey! You just used magic, didn’t you?!"

He got disqualified for cheating.

Next was a long-distance race. He tried chanting while running, but he ran out of breath, slowed down, and lost again.

The VTR of his pitiful performance had the guests and audience in stitches. It was proof: modern sorcerers were tragic figures.

Sakurako, just by being descended from a sorcerer, had probably faced this kind of ridicule her whole life. Even when she succeeded, people sneered, "It’s just magic."

I heard from other friends (not Sakurako) that her grandma had once been on TV for her "incredible magic." But it backfired, and she ended up being laughed at. The way that friend told me? They sounded like they were mocking her.

There was malice in it—like they couldn’t beat Sakurako fairly, so they had to drag her down elsewhere.

Fueled by righteous fury, I made it my mission to shut down every bit of unfairness.

“I won't tolerate anyone speaking ill of Sakurako!” I declared.  

For the record, I wasn’t great at school, but I was strong—stronger than most boys. I was loud, sharp-tongued, the classic "boss kid" type.

My homeroom teacher even wrote in my report card: "Rin is very loyal to her friends, but her words and actions tend to be violent."