Chapter 049. The Student Council President’s Personal Opinion

Wait a moment.

Although the man had investigated this Qiao Qiao, an exorcist—a rather unusual one at that—who did not employ the standard exorcism techniques but instead used firearms and other weapons, there were still things he could not understand. No matter how you looked at it, for an ordinary high school student in Japan to carry plastic expl*** on his person—what on earth did that mean? Was that truly plastic expl***? And he even stored it in a lunchbox!?

Moreover, that strand of hair wedged in the shoe locker door—according to Qiao Qiao, that wasn’t any special countermeasure, but simply a habit. What? Please, hold on a second, my friend. You’re a high school student, aren’t you? Not some undercover mercenary from a secret organization, transferred from a war-torn Middle Eastern country to protect a young lady, right? The environment you live in should be perfectly safe. There’s no need to go to such extremes.

Only at this moment did the man realize that there seemed to be something off about Qiao Qiao.

Of course, Qiao Qiao himself was oblivious to all this. He was brought to the student council.

“President, this is him—he just blew up the school’s shoe locker.”

Natsume Shige, the discipline committee member, was still rubbing her slightly aching ears as she stood beside Qiao Qiao and addressed the student council president. As a member of the discipline committee, she was upright to a fault and could not tolerate even the smallest infraction of school rules. Thus, after the smoke from the explosion had settled, she brought Qiao Qiao here.

Although the weather was not particularly warm, the student council president still held a folding fan in his hand. At first glance, Qiao Qiao recognized it immediately. That was no ordinary folding fan, but a cypress fan, fashioned from cypress wood. It was said that cypress possessed spiritual power; there were numerous legends of cypresses attaining sentience. During wartime, cypress wood was used to build ships, perhaps in hopes that its spiritual essence would render those warships invincible. As for the fact that all those cypress ships eventually sank—that was another story.

Thus, fans made from cypress were mostly used as exorcism tools. For example, priests at shrines often carried such fans—sometimes cypress, sometimes bat-shaped. The student before him, being the president of Minecastle University Affiliated Senior High School, was certainly not to be underestimated.

In fact, Qiao Qiao had met him before. Indeed, the student council president of Minecastle University Affiliated Senior High School was named Masaharu Ii. He had consistently ranked in the top ten academically, was handsome, refined, and courteous.

He also bore another identity: the heir of Meiji Shrine. According to the rules of succession, it was highly likely that he would one day reside at Meiji Shrine, becoming the chief priest—the head of the shrine. Perhaps because of this, Masaharu Ii had displayed remarkable leadership skills from a young age. In his first year, he was elected student council president, and now, in his second year, he had won re-election.

“I see. I heard a loud noise earlier—so that was your doing, Qiao,” Masaharu Ii said, folding his fan, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Natsume, could you objectively state the facts?”

“Huh?” Natsume Shige, who had intended for the president to properly reprimand Qiao Qiao, was taken aback. State the facts? Hadn’t she already done so? Qiao Qiao came to school and blew up the shoe locker—what else was there to add?

“Let me explain,” Qiao Qiao volunteered. After all, Natsume had only arrived halfway through and might not have a complete picture.

“Go ahead,” Masaharu Ii prompted.

“At 7:50 this morning, I arrived at school, parked my motorcycle, and went to the shoe locker. The on-duty discipline committee member, a teacher, and my classmate Kazuya Sakamoto can all attest to this,” Qiao Qiao began methodically. “When I reached my shoe locker, I found a suspicious object.”

“A suspicious object?” Masaharu Ii’s gaze sharpened.

“Yes. I had set up a mechanism on my shoe locker—if anyone tampered with it, I would know immediately. Combining this with recent incidents, I determined that there was a dangerous object inside.”

Qiao Qiao met Masaharu Ii’s eyes directly, unfazed by the student council president’s authority.

“As the first period was about to start, in order to save time, I could only use expl*** disposal.”

“Excuse me?” Even Masaharu Ii’s composure faltered at that.

“You mean, detonation?”

“That’s right. A shoe locker is a confined space, which limits the types of traps that can be set. My assessment was that it was most likely a directional anti-personnel mine or similar explosive. The safest way to deal with such devices is to isolate them and destroy them by detonation.”

Qiao Qiao’s expression remained perfectly calm.

“...Indeed.” Masaharu Ii hesitated for a long while before responding slowly.

“Huh?” Now it was Natsume Shige’s turn to be confused.

“But, President, no matter how you look at it, blowing up a shoe locker—” she began.

“Then, Qiao, did you ultimately find an explosive device?” Masaharu Ii raised his fan, signaling Natsume to wait, inviting Qiao Qiao to continue.

“I did.”

“What?” Natsume’s eyes were all but question marks at this point.

In a shoe locker at a prestigious Tokyo high school with an average deviation score above seventy-five, an explosive device was discovered? Was it her understanding of explosives that was flawed, or was “explosive device” some kind of code only boys understood? Natsume felt her entire worldview, built over seventeen years, was about to collapse.

“Here,” Qiao Qiao said, producing a few fragments in an evidence bag. “These are items I collected from the scene.” He placed them on the student council president’s desk.

Masaharu Ii picked up the transparent plastic bag. Among the splinters of wood from the shoe locker were several steel ball bearings, already deformed by the force of the blast.

“What are these?” Masaharu Ii asked.

“These are the steel balls from inside a directional anti-personnel mine. Such explosives are packed with steel balls to increase lethality upon detonation. Because of their design, the blast’s force is highly concentrated, making them extremely dangerous.”

Qiao Qiao explained the principle of a directional anti-personnel mine in the student council president’s office with complete composure, making Natsume feel as if reality and fantasy had swapped places.

“Additionally, during my expl*** disposal, two distinct explosions occurred. The second was the mine being triggered by my own charge, a secondary explosion.”

“So, in other words...” Masaharu Ii seemed to understand. “Someone planted an explosive device in your school shoe locker, attempting to attack you. Fortunately, your experience allowed you to defuse the crisis.”

“Exactly. While I don’t know the motive, that’s the reality.”

As expected of the president of Minecastle University Affiliated Senior High School, and heir to Meiji Shrine—his comprehension was truly impressive, Qiao Qiao thought with admiration.

“In that case, there is no problem. I will handle the matter of the shoe locker with the school authorities,” Masaharu Ii said, opening his fan again. “Additionally, on behalf of Meiji Shrine, I apologize for the intrusion and for someone planting an explosive device on campus.” He bowed deeply to Qiao Qiao.

“As long as no one was hurt, it’s fine,” Qiao Qiao replied with a bow of his own. What an understanding, elegant, and thorough president; he was glad his vote had not been wasted. He could vote for him again next year.

“???”

Natsume Shige, who had witnessed the entire exchange, felt her worldview—seventeen years in the making—crumble to dust.

...

Near Minecastle University Affiliated Senior High School, in a small alleyway, a gust of wind blew.

The man appeared from the shadows.

“This exorcist is a real problem,” he muttered, recalling the scene that morning when Qiao Qiao nonchalantly blew up his own shoe locker. The memory sent a chill down his spine. If that boy were to grow any stronger...

No! He forced himself to stifle that terrifying thought.

He stroked his chin and glanced toward the cafeteria uncle driving a van out through the staff entrance, lost in thought.