During lunch hour, the student council is asked to oversee the prep for an upcoming show on the outdoor stage. In addition, we help here and there, as is our way. The beautiful thing is that, even though this is supposed to be an event by the Horticulture Club, dozens of students show up to pitch in of their own accord. Despite my height, I'm considered one of the stronger girls on campus, so I'm with a bunch of boys lugging the heavier displays from the club room, to the stage. Mutsumi is the only other strong girl who volunteered, and we're all trying not to look weaker than her. There's enough of us that we get the job done in two trips.

The last thing is something we're told not to handle for liability reasons. It's a cylindrical stone to be used as a base for a curious contraption called a shishi-odoshi. I don't know how much that stone weighs, but it's as tall as my knee. We're still waiting on somebody to find a dolly for it.

As I'm stretching out my back by the stage, I'm called by a voice I never expected to hear in my school. "Is that really who I think it is?" I freeze. That pompous rasp is unmistakable. I turn to see a tall, athletically built insect of a Celtic fish peddler with obnoxiously bright blue hair. It's Lancer. In a striped, pink apron. He's pushing a cart full of flowers with one hand, and carrying a huge potted plant in the other. "No way!" he continues. "Since when do you go to school, Saber?"

I'm on his case in an instant. "Oh, how nice it is to see you again, Mister Chulainn."

"Huh? That's how you're doing it around here?" Lancer then leans down low enough to level me, and whispers, "I'll play along, if you want, but what's the big deal? Ever since the Wish, magic's public knowledge now."

"Come on. I got enough to worry about with schoolwork. I don't want that kind of attention on top of it."

"Oh," he drawls. It's borderline sarcastic, but that's just how he normally sounds. "Well, then no worries, kid. Your secret's safe with me. Mainly because I don't really care." Charming as always, Lancer.

"Seriously now."

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Artoria. I totally get it. I wouldn't want the Association grilling me every week either. Having to reregister every six months is bad enough."

"I'm glad we understand each other, then." With nothing else productive to do, I accompany him to the stage, and then assist in unloading his cargo. "Why are you delivering flowers?" I ask him. "I thought you were running a seafood stall in Mount Miyama."

"Still am. Just doing this as a favor to the florist a few shops over. The guy who runs it usually has his boy take care of the deliveries, but junior's out sick."

"Noble of you, I guess."

"You're talking to the best of 'em, kid."

A camera shutter clicks rapidly nearby. We turn to see a girl on one knee taking pictures with reckless abandon. Lancer raises an eyebrow, puzzled, but I know this sorceress as the head of our Newspaper Club. We're directly framed in her sights. "Oh, yes," she hisses. "This will definitely sell!"

"Hata," I say warningly. "What are you up to now?"

"Now? Well, now I'm thinking up a good title for my next headline, of course. 'Newest Member of Student Council Caught Red-Handed.' If there's enough room in the subheading, we'll mention a relationship of a possibly sexual nature with an older man." She starts striking dramatic poses. "Immigrants in love! Age is no issue! He brings her flowers at school!"

"You're writing for the school paper! Not a soap opera!"

Lancer, on the other hand, finds the situation positively hilarious. "You have got to be yankin' my chain!" he says to Hata between howls, patting my back. "You're talking about this small fry? Nah, I like my women ten years older, and about ten cup sizes bigger. Know what I mean, Jelly-Beans?" I punch him rather hard on the bicep, but it doesn't even dent his laughter. That's one of the downsides to keeping your prana levels so low when trying to blend in with humans: you're only about as strong as you look. My arms are nowhere near as noodly as the average girl of my age, but against someone like Lancer, I might as well be a toddler trying to smash a door in with a Wiffle bat.

I end up wrestling Hata's camera away for so long, I don't immediately realize when Lancer walks off on his own. Hata and I then watch as he approaches a distraught group of students. They're looking down at that cylindrical stone base from earlier. They'd gotten it on a dolly, but one of the wheels has just broken off. Now they're trying to figure out how to bring it the rest of the way to the stage.

Lancer's muscles visibly swell as he lifts the cylinder with a little bit of trouble. He doesn't take but two steps before he's surrounded by Ousai girls, and a few teachers, who proceed to swoon over the feat. And then there's Hata. She's halfway up a lamppost, snapping away.

The sudden attention catches Lancer off-guard. Nevertheless, he takes it in stride with a hearty guffaw. "Aww, come on, ladies," he says. "Clear a path, now. This thing's pretty heavy!" They comply, but follow him all the way to the stage. "Don't get too close, or you can kiss your toes goodbye if I drop this thing!" I hear at least three different voices suggest that he kiss their toes instead. Dude.

Got to give him some credit, though. I sense no prana spikes from his direction. He's carrying that all by his own merit. Impressive, Irish-Hercules. If you could do me a favor and just go straight to hell, though, I'd appreciate it.

Once the stone is set into place, Lancer immediately proceeds to show off to the crowd by flexing his biceps. Two of the teachers even cozy up with little shame. After a few more moments of this spectacle, he begins to take his leave with his cart. He responds to the sad warbles of his new fan base that he'll return in a few days to pick up the rentals.

With that, Lancer's escorted to the gate, entourage-style, and then is back in his truck for a kiss goodbye towards a wall of estrogen before finally driving off.

Well. That happened.

There's a heavy sigh right next to me. I turn to see Miss Yokoshima staring disapprovingly at Lancer's little horde. "Absolutely no self-control," she says. "What a bunch of animals. For shame." She then looks at me. After a few moments failing to figure out my unimpressed expression, she asks, "What?"

"Honestly? I'm actually surprised you weren't right there with them."

Miss Yokoshima raises her brow at me, letting the silence linger. Finally, she scoffs, says "Too old," and just walks away.