Who or what?
Strawberry Pink, freed from her constraints upon receiving permission to use magic, began to ponder. Access to the database was jammed. Communication with HQ was similarly blocked. In that case, attempting it would be a waste of time.

　What came to mind were the names of the twelve notable witches.
Survivors of the Hakodate battle, survivors in the modern age, pitiful maidens swallowed by magic.
Among those named after the twelve signs of the zodiac— ‘Silver’ was not present. There should have been none wielding a ‘Sword’.

　This situation, with my right arm missing, was targeted.
The black-painted custom vehicle, designed to withstand gunfire, was cleaved in two without a trace of phosphorescent magic.

“—Backed by an intelligence organisation. The latest model, I suppose.”

My mind simulates the worst-case scenario.
Yet, there is no answer.
　All that exists is the silver mask fixed upon me. The silver dress fluttering, the Japanese sword fused with the cane sheathed —the killing intent of the witch, the illegal overloaded magic cyberware user.

“Enemy.”
“…You can talk, you know. That’s unusual for a witch. If your language centre hasn’t been corrupted by M-particles, this could be quick. If I issue a surrender demand—”
“I’ll cut you down.”

A silver flash.
The sound of severing.
An instant.

“—Well, I suppose you won’t listen.”

Strawberry Pink sighed, staring at the severed magical cyberdeck wand —cut cleanly, as expected.
No cold sweat.
Neither shoulders nor legs trembled.
No agitation —but analysis accelerated.

She hadn’t seen it.

　Instinct.
By instinct, she’d shielded herself with the magic staff.
Yes. It had to be that. The M-particles merely enveloping her dress wouldn’t have stopped it.

The magic staff was severed.
The left arm that had held it fell to the ground.

She circulated the M-particles. Deliberately numbing the pain nerves in her artificial spinal cord. But the blood wouldn’t stop easily. The problem was it was my left arm. Damn it.
My left arm was flesh and blood.
It was one of the few remaining parts that was!

What fell was my forearm.
It still had the elbow.
Strawberry Pink raced through her thoughts. That was all she could control now.

“Apologise.”

The silver dress fluttered.
The Japanese sword slid back into its scabbard.

　That.
That scabbard.

“To what?”
“—To [Blue].”
“Huh?”

With a whirring sound like a girl’s scream, the Japanese sword slid back into its scabbard. A mechanical mechanism. The faintly perceptible, ominous phosphorescence of M-particles. Black light magic.

“【Sapphire Blue】”
“A magical girl’s identification name? Sorry, I don’t know anyone like that…”
“You called her a 【Witch】. The most beautiful girl in this world. The kindest girl… my big sister.”

The scabbard is drawn.
At her waist.
An iaido stance.
I hadn’t seen it before —no, she hadn’t shown it. The declaration of the kill zone, the range of certain death.

“So it’s revenge, then.”
“……”
“Is the enemy me? Or the government?”
“……Kill you, and bring down the nation too.”
“I see.”

She kicks up the severed magic wand.

“Right then.”

Strawberry Pink clamps it between her jaws, like fangs.

“Twist and die here. He-hi-fu-ho-he-hi, for tranquillity.”
“…At least cry, you monster!”

Pink twin-tails began to run.
Streetlights on the bridge cast shadows.
Peach phosphorescence burst.

　Magus Engine malfunction.
An operational sound akin to death throes, eerily similar to a girl’s scream.
The surge of enhancement commands coursing through her artificial muscles made her legs kick out, propelling her forward.

—Ah, she thought.

Strawberry Pink understood.
She was no ordinary girl.
Even without arms, even with no help coming, not a single tear fell.
　The very freedom to contemplate this seared her heart more than anything.

Ordinary girls fear blood.
Ordinary girls never get dusted in battle.
Ordinary girls are those who can laugh outside of combat.

“No —are you crying, you?”

The scabbard flickered.
In the blink of an eye, Strawberry Pink closed in on the silver dress.

　A severed, sharpened, M-particle-infused magically cyberdeck cane, bearing the hue of peach.
A flash of silver.

Clash.

The sound of cutting.

The sound of falling.

“Wh—!”

　Strawberry Pink gave a wry smile. It was the first time since becoming a magical girl that she had laughed from the heart, not in some inorganic simulation.

Her own body shattered, her brain consumed by dizzying pain too intense for pain control to keep up, swaying. Swaying. Swaying.
But more than that —shattering the scabbard to be of use to the magical girls who followed. The very thought that she wouldn’t let a single one die was, right now, more dazzling than anything else.

Shattered and split by the collision of M-particles.
The falling sword sheath was visible in slow motion.

Strawberry Pink, her torso severed.
Wet with the spurting blood, the girl wore an unburdened smile.