The Error in the System [End of Arc I]

Smoke lingered beneath the ceiling of the dark apartment, as if it had long since made itself at home.

Tadamori Purimura sat at her desk in short pants, shoulders relaxed, fluffy hind paws casually propped up on the tabletop.

A cigarette smoldered in her paw, while the ashtray beside the keyboard was so full that the butts were already piling up.

Her face was lit only by the glow of the monitor she stared at with bored eyes, occasionally taking a sip from the coffee mug resting next to her mouse.

A notification flickered onto the screen.

A small pop-up from her news widget, neatly formatted, with an image and a headline.

GAS LEAK ON ROOF OF NYANSEI HIGH CAUSES EXPLOSION – NO NEKOS INJURED!

Purimura stared at the window for a moment, then she clicked it away.

“Tch.”

Her mouse glided across the screen and another window opened, an internal report overview, lines of text, codes, brief status updates.

Her eyes scanned them like a machine.

No investigation.

No response teams.

No questions.

”All that effort and they won’t even thank me for this…”

She exhaled a thin stream of smoke as she closed the windows.

”But I didn’t do it for them anyway, nya…”

She picked up a sheet of paper from the unsorted pile on her desk and held it into the light of the display.

She studied the sketch for a while.

Two spirals.

One coiling to the left, the other to the right.

One shimmering bluish like glacial ice, the other glowing red like molten stone.

Purimura sighed, set the paper down again, and clicked through the growing stack of browser tabs.

She opened a new one and typed into the search bar, again and again, rephrasing each time.

— New Tab —

Nyaaguguru Search

HUMANS + MAGIC + SIGNS

Nothing.

MARKS + MAGICAL RESONANCE + HUMANS

Nothing.

SPIRAL + MAGIC + JAPAN

Nothing.

Only a few poorly written articles, sensationalist blogs, some pseudo-scientific PDFs.

Then a public board.

A place where users and self-proclaimed experts pelted each other with half-knowledge about the craziest theories regarding alleged human magic.

[Nekoboard › Speculation › Human Magic › Origin]

Tomcat_F14:

Guys… scientists already proved magic can be passed on to humans. They just don't want to cause panic, that's all. Open your eyes!!1

StreetCat88 replied almost instantly.

Bullshit. Cite one source. 🙄

Another answer loaded beneath it.

GeneticTruth:

You’re all wrong. Crossbreeding is the key. Just look at this!

[link]

A warning banner appeared beneath the link.

⚠ This post may contain explicit or unsafe content!

Purimura stared at the screen, expression unmoving.

She didn’t click it, she already knew what was behind it.

Interspecies porn. Probably a virus.

“You people really have too much time,” she muttered as she closed the site with a click.

A moment of silence followed.

Only the quiet hum of the PC and the ticking of a clock somewhere in the room.

Purimura leaned back, glanced at the sketches, then at the screen again.

Alright. One more time. From the beginning.

She opened a new window. 

A program.

— Internal System —

Department of Magic Surveillance

[Username: Fluffy_Hunter_33]

[Password: * * * * * * * * * ]

After entering her username and password, she navigated through the interface.

Security Archive / Footage / Neko-Nippon / Surveillance Cameras

“Let’s see again when exactly the error crept into the system…” she murmured.

A few clicks later, video footage from a station camera appeared.

Mishima Station.

Grainy.

Corner angle.

Crowds and muted lighting.

A figure at a ticket machine.

Hale Armitage.

Even in low resolution, his Western build stood out.

Beside him, his slight companion.

Koori.

Purimura froze the frame.

Zoom.

Her gaze dropped to Koori’s feet.

Barefoot.

“Where did you lose your shoes, nya?”

Another zoom, this time on Hale, just below his sleeve.

The mark.

Purimura leaned closer to the screen.

“He already had it back then…” she murmured.

Her eyes automatically scanned the details.

Tiny specks of snow and dirt clinging to the hem, the way Hale’s pant leg was damp at the knee, as if he had knelt, or fallen, in deep snow.

He was on Fujisan…

Purimura opened a new tab.

She typed slowly.

FUJISAN – MAGIC – MARK

At first, the usual results appeared: tourist articles, lists of Shinto shrines, a website for “Marky’s Magic Café” in Fujinomiya.

But deeper down the results, something else surfaced.

Human Cult Traditions: Mount Fuji – Of Gods and Magic

Purimura clicked, scrolled, and read.

Until a name appeared.

Konohanasakuya-hime.

Goddess of the mountain.

Goddess of blossoms.

Goddess of ice and fire.

There was a section on “protective symbols” and “seal forms” within the context of Fuji worship.

And then she saw it.

A symbol.

Stylized. Ancient. Ritualistic, embedded in an image like a marginal note.

Purimura’s pupils narrowed as she leaned forward.

The mark.

Or rather, both marks: Hale’s and Koori’s.

Together. Overlaid. Perfect.

The thin smile that spread across Purimura’s lips held nothing playful.

It was the kind of smile a hunter wore when they finally found the trail they had been searching for.

She took one last drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out.

“Bingo,” she murmured, as she leaned back in her chair.