The Protagonist's Party is Too Diligent

Otaku types tend to be strangely particular about certain things—and in my opinion, Claire was one of them.

That doesn’t mean I’m calling Claire an otaku.

By my own standards—as someone who was once an otaku—playing a single game series or enjoying a few popular anime or manga doesn’t make you one. An otaku needs to have something a bit darker about them, something obsessive, like treating the wait for the next episode or update as one of the few joys in life.

If you can just stop watching midway and move on, or shrug and go “oh well” when something gets canceled, then you’re just a normal person.

So among us, I suppose the only one who really qualifies as an otaku is Mia.

...Of course, given that I’ve literally made it my mission to get a happy ending inside a video game world, I might be the most deep-boned otaku here.

Still, even if Claire isn’t quite there yet, she definitely has the potential.

“For light and justice! Magical Sylvia!”

“Unnie, that’s not right.”

At first, I tried to grit my teeth and clear the game properly. But once I hit a difficulty wall that pure reaction time couldn’t overcome, I ended up yelling out my ultimate move. Claire looked at me seriously and said,

“A magical girl would never stutter while casting a spell! A magical girl’s lines are the face of the franchise! If you don’t say it right, the toys won’t sell!”

“...Isn’t that a bit too real?”

Boom.

While arguing with Claire, I failed to notice my character on screen and ended up exploding.

Apparently, even in a shooting game where you’re playing as a flying magical girl, the character is still referred to as a “unit.” I mean, just because you’re controlling a magical ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) girl doesn’t mean blood sprays everywhere when she’s hit. She just explodes in a colorful burst like fireworks.

“More importantly, I think this game has a serious design flaw.”

“Huh? What kind of flaw?”

“The ultimate move only activates after the full voice command is spoken. So you can’t actually use it to block incoming bullets in time.”

Exactly.

The game only recognized the move after I finished speaking. It had to pick up my voice through the mic, detect the end of my phrase, and then register the move in-game.

Which means—even if you had infinite ultimates—you’d need to shout short phrases over and over to spam them.

And if someone else was talking nearby? The game would pick up their words as part of the command and delay the move. Worse, if multiple people were having a conversation, the game treated the entire conversation as one continuous command—so if someone talked to you mid-battle, your ultimate was delayed that long!

I mean, even if it’s a tech limitation, this is way too sloppy for such a crucial mechanic.

Then again... maybe it was intentional. If it was designed to be a trash game from the start, that would explain everything.

“Then why don’t you make different names for different kinds of moves?”

“...”

I couldn’t help but admire Claire at that moment.

She really did have a lot of ideas for stuff like this.

I quietly passed the controller to Alice. Honestly, I figured in the end it would come down to a final match between Mia and me anyway.

Apparently, Alice had a similar thought—she tried to play by dodging with her eyes alone at first.

But it turns out the visual reflexes used in sword fighting and the ones needed for playing games are a bit different.

“Magical Missile!”

“Wrong!”

Claire shouted excitedly.

“You have to transform first before using a move!”

“Claire? If you keep talking next to me, the game registers it as part of the spell and won’t fire the ultimate.”

Boom.

“...Hey, my ultimate didn’t go off while you two were chatting next to me.”

At Alice’s comment, I averted my gaze.

[LOLOLOLOL]

[There’s no way we’re finishing this game today]

[Guess we just have to keep distracting each other]

The viewers quickly grasped the true nature of the game.

“Then let’s agree not to talk to the player mid-game from now on,”

Charlotte said, clearly having been waiting to bring it up.

“Otherwise we’ll never finish this game properly. And we do need to earn that mission reward.”

We all stared at Charlotte, but she met our eyes without a hint of shame.

As expected of a princess.

Definitely the most politically educated one among us.

*

“Magical Missile!”

Magical Beam!”

“Magical Whatever!”

When it was Claire’s turn—the one who knew the game best—she started improvising random incantations and made it surprisingly far.

And at that point, I gave up on the whole “Claire might be an otaku” theory.

Thinking back, the way she kept talking earlier... that was all just sabotage, wasn’t it?

She just wanted to be the first to clear the game and then enjoy watching the rest of us suffer the punishments.

She was probably the one among us least involved in politics... Though, now that I think about it, when I rewound time, Claire did become an imperial princess. So I guess she got some political education along the way.

Boom.

Still, no matter how good she was, there was no dodging the bullet storm near the end.

If you just shouted “Ah! Ah!” in short bursts, you could maybe survive, but actually saying full magical girl lines while dodging? Not easy.

“Aw, too bad.”

Still, Claire looked satisfied as she passed the controller to Mia.

[“Magical Whatever” is a bit much]

[A cheap adult’s spell]

[She just wanted to win lol]

“But I did say ‘Magical,’ didn’t I?”

Just because you add “Magical” doesn’t make it a proper magical girl spell!

Although, now that I think about it, the only one here actually dressed like a magical girl was Mia.

All our eyes turned to Mia as she sat down.

Out of all of us, Mia was the one who probably knew magical girls the best.

Sure, I’d watched some magical girl anime as a kid. But I was a boy, and I’d always felt awkward watching shows made for girls. Even when I was alone, I’d change the channel out of pride, then feel regret afterward.

So I can’t really claim to “know them well.”

But Mia regularly streamed magical girl shows on her phone. I was curious to see how she would shout her spell.

Inhale—

After watching the rest of us play, Mia took a deep breath in preparation.

Then—

“Pipiru Parapara Change Cue!”

...Huh?

That didn’t even sound like human language.

The rest of us sat with mouths slightly agape.

[?]

[??]

[Is that what magical girl spells sound like nowadays?]

Apparently?

I couldn’t remember exactly either. I’d watched them so long ago.

But thinking back, maybe the lines really were like that.

Stuff like:

“Love Change!”

or

“Beat Cue!”

Yeah, that kind of thing.

Now that I thought about it, even within the same franchise, titles and phrases changed based on the times and what kids were into.

Back when I was little, most kids watched anime into their early teens, and without smartphones, we played with toys or ran around outside. Nowadays, even really young kids have phones, so the age when they play with physical toys has dropped.

Maybe girl-targeted toys changed too.

[I’m falling for her...]

[Is this the true power of magic?]

[Magical Girl Miamical Mia!]

The chat was exploding.

And while we sat speechless, Mia became the first among us to make it all the way to the boss.

The bullet hell that had made progress nearly impossible for the rest of us? Mia broke through it effortlessly by reciting well-paced, properly spaced lines. Suddenly the game became reasonably beatable.

To be fair, Claire had done something similar—but Mia’s execution was flawless.

“Ah.”

But even Mia didn’t clear the game on her first try. The boss was a bit harder by design. Its enormous body filled a third of the screen, shortening the bullet spawn distance.

“Phew.”

Even so, Mia looked radiant as she stepped away after losing.

[Is this... the power of childhood innocence?]

But we’re the same age! At least physically.

And legally, we’re both adults in this country.

“Mia, did you have fun?”

“Yes!”

She answered my question with a bright smile, and I realized something:

My heart was darker than I thought.

Wait, wasn’t Mia the one who once planned to kill her classmates? Shouldn’t she be the darker one?

Maybe she just discovered her inner child a little later than most?

What the hell does that make me...?

“......”

All of us—myself included—turned to look at Claire.

Her gameplay had been similar, but the contrast between Mia’s genuine joy and Claire’s calculated strategy was hard to ignore.

“...I’m sorry.”

Unable to withstand the weight of our stares, Claire turned her head and muttered her apology.

Meanwhile, Mia just watched us, a question mark practically floating above her head.