[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 76

Mitsuki Shiga carries a dream.

The star named “dream,” shimmering hazily, is the aspiration that the girl has devoted her entire life to reaching.

In her third year of middle school, a time of youthful innocence for anyone, she brushed off her friends’ dissuasion and chose Chronos. From that moment, her mind was set on one thing:

—Be the best.

This conviction shaped her inner belief and became the driving force behind all her actions.

When did it begin? The star began to shine from the corner of her vision. When she turned her head to avoid the faint glimmer, there lay the cradle of the star. In a way, that gentle light was something Mitsuki had created herself.

Wherever her gaze fell, there was the star.

Wherever she walked, she could only follow the star.

When the star perched atop a small camera in the corner of her room, Mitsuki began to take an interest in photography. The dream of a girl who once roamed the neighborhood hills, capturing fleeting moments on scraps of paper, evolved into the concept of journalism.

The radio at the corner store’s newsstand broadcasted gossip from Trinity’s streets every day. The front page of the newspaper, tossed by the bicycle girl each morning, vividly depicted students firing guns to secure their interests. It felt as though the sting of tear gas was rising.

Then came April of her fifteenth year.

Mitsuki stepped into the towering glass palace of Chronos School.

Now, it’s derided as a mere tabloid, accused of fabricating stories when there’s nothing to write about. But back then, Chronos School was a symbol of prestigious journalism, upholding her convictions.

Top of her middle school class, Mitsuki had paved a smooth path until graduation. The star whispered to her:

—Be the best.

“Be the best,” Mitsuki murmured.

Her three years of school life… to be honest, they weren’t exactly great.

Chronos School’s administration was profoundly unstable. The student council president, supposedly chasing scoops, would go missing for days, only to be found in a Tea Party bathroom. Student council officers were sacked every few months.

As a school devoted to journalism, the weekly paper published by the newspaper club was filled with stories of corruption and student council cartels. Mitsuki thought those kids were the main culprits behind the academy’s chaos.

Fortunately, the wise—or subjectively wise—girl made an effort to ignore anything that could shake her convictions. Newspapers weren’t worth reading, and news was even worse.

What mattered was becoming the best. She had followed the path guided by the star thus far, and it had always been right.

Incidents here and there were prime fodder for the girl. She might not have been able to write stellar articles, but she seemed to have a knack for photography. Her camera transformed the daily protests of the Pater faction into an image of a student collapsing under tear gas.

Mitsuki was one of two reporters who ventured past the checkpoint’s barricades. Entering a protest site where tear gas and white phosphorus smoke flew indiscriminately, she saw a student lying in a pool of blood in front of the chaotic school gate.

—Ugh, another one’s getting hauled off.

Click. She pressed the shutter.

It was no different from any other day. Mitsuki handed the photos to the society editor and went home. Exhausted from running around all day, she was just about to rest her weary body when the clunky telephone under the TV rang loudly.

Who calls in the middle of the night? She checked and saw the six-character name of the photography editor, someone she’d exchanged contacts with indirectly. Even at Chronos School, wasn’t it courtesy not to contact students after hours?

Grumbling, she picked up the phone.

“Hey, Mitsuki-san. Sorry to call so late, got a minute?”

“I do. What’s up?”

“I just got some photos from the society editor, and the ones you took are something else. I had to check with you as a formality. Is it okay if we use them?”

“If that’s what this is about… of course. Call me back if they get a good response. Tell the editor to put it on the front page.”

Not that it would happen.

She’d sent up dozens, hundreds of photos before. The society editor had praised her, saying they were scoop-worthy, but none had ever become a true scoop. Other reporters must be pretty good at photography too.

Still, it was the first time another department’s editor had called her directly. Kind of interesting. Maybe her third year was bringing new experiences to her school life. The corners of Mitsuki’s mouth twitched into a small smile.

A few hours later, when she woke up, that smile was gone.

As she stirred to the morning sunlight, her phone vibrated in her line of sight. The small metal device buzzed relentlessly, as if it didn’t know how to tire.

Did I oversleep? But the clock had just passed 7 a.m.

The screen lit up with hundreds of piled-up MomoTalk messages and several missed calls from the society editor. Priorities were clear.

Ring.

“Editor. What’s with the morning call?”

“You finally picked up. Thanks to you, I’m having quite a day. Reporters are flooding the society desk, begging for your photos. I owe you one.”

“Tell me what’s going on before I decide whether to accept your thanks.”

“The whole academy’s in an uproar because of you, and you still don’t know? Get to the newsroom. You’ve got us coming in at dawn and stopping the presses. That’s never happened before.”

As the noise of students in the background faded, the situation began to sink in.

Chronos School’s mornings were quiet. Except for the editorial department, most sections stayed closed, waiting for Ilios’s radiance to illuminate the world again. Only the editorial printing press ran, producing the morning and stone editions.

The editorial team must have been in a frenzy. Just as the morning edition’s printing wrapped up and the proofreaders’ tension eased, the chief editor likely stormed in and halted the stone edition press.

The train-like rumble of the presses stopped abruptly. While the rotary press was down, the editor inserted Mitsuki’s photo and a brief article mid-run. The restarted press screeched with a metallic clang.

A scoop.

Mitsuki bolted out of her bedroom and confirmed her hunch in less than half an hour.

Her photo was plastered across the front page of the morning paper. Blood trickled from a student’s forehead, staining their uniform. The vivid red streaks around added a sense of life. MomoTalk was buzzing with reporters asking to use the photo.

The society editor welcomed the girl into the office. She likely thought her years of guiding students and sharing photos with the photography department had finally paid off. Mitsuki, knowing this was half-true, didn’t bother responding.

The article sold like wildfire once it hit the newsstands.

It was her first-ever scoop. The checkpoint didn’t protest, but many Tea Party students, including those from the Tea Party president’s circle, half-threatened her, citing press guidelines. Ironically, this proved the article’s popularity.

“How dare you not pull the article? Do you think you’re something special? Does Trinity look like a pushover to you?”

“Can’t you at least take down the photo?”

Chronos School students celebrated the exposure of Trinity’s dirty laundry. Since the checkpoint itself didn’t react, they could ignore the complaints. It seemed they wanted to use it as propaganda.

Years of accumulated kindling had sparked a fire. The photography editor even came to the office to hand her a bonus. Even if the photo was misleading, it undeniably marked the start of Mitsuki’s recognition as a veteran.

And… that led to today.

Just a few months later, Mitsuki had become a senior member of the society desk. If the society editor graduated and left, she’d likely take over. The ever-active reporter earned the awe of her juniors.

Once a student becomes a veteran, their true potential shines. Mitsuki managed to snag a couple more scoops. A photo of a delinquent eating in a cardboard box on an Indian street caused a social stir.

Mitsuki kept following the star. She pressed the shutter at protest crowds and pointed her lens at street corners.

There were engineers stabbing Millennium’s flag into a pole while a starving girl demanded more club funding. There was Urawa Hanako, waving Trinity’s flag, demanding sexual liberation.

Click. The sound followed wherever the star’s light led. Her connections with the intelligence chief and her sudden visit to the checkpoint were because the star shone in that direction.

Mitsuki thinks the checkpoint captain is an interesting person. They’ve had some history.

Her first scoop photo secretly captured Yamatsu-san striking a student’s head with a shield. Hanako’s photo showed her dazed face, and in the corner of the cardboard box, a trench-coated figure handed out bread to students.

In some way, Mitsuki and the checkpoint captain have been intertwined. Digging into her deeper memories, sometimes the star even perched atop Yamatsu-san’s oversized hat—what Chronos students mock as the “loaf hat.”

So, in Mitsuki’s mind, sticking close to Yamatsu-san might yield another scoop photo.

Something different from her past photos, perhaps rivaling the glory of her first scoop. A moment that could cause a social ripple, or even surpass it, captured by her own hands.

If that happens—if the moment of fate enters her lens…

—I could be the best.

The star teased.

Yeah, probably.

Reaching the pinnacle of Chronos was no longer just the star’s affair. Unlike before, the flickering star seemed ready to fulfill its role soon.

To achieve it with her own ability, she’d need a few means. In journalism, “means” often refers to those who stir controversy in both camps.

The checkpoint captain would be her means.

“Be the best,” Mitsuki murmured.