[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 123

Chronos School doesn’t mandate standard-issue firearms for its clubs or grades.

The free-spirited, inherently lax atmosphere plays a big role, and as a school specializing in journalism and broadcasting, the need to handle firearms is minimal. In other words, the student council offers no funding for gun purchases.

Most students reportedly buy one or two cheap handguns from online markets. For Siga Mitsuki, who burned through her monthly food budget on trespassing fines without a yen in savings, this was a major dilemma.

As the most passionate reporter at her alma mater, a run-of-the-mill firearm purchase… just didn’t sit right.

Mitsuki embarked on a two-month “fine diet.” Her colleagues in the social affairs department—where she was still a member at the time—were shocked, thinking she’d turned over a new leaf, but it was purely for her goal. She never forgot her true calling as a journalist, not for a moment.

Conducting interviews in an uncharacteristically wholesome manner and securing permits from higher-ups for her coverage, Mitsuki eliminated fines. Bonuses soon replaced them, and in less than two months, she amassed just over a million yen.

On the 58th day of her fine diet, Mitsuki appeared at the black market. She scoured every gun shop in the city center.

…Nothing caught her eye.

Everywhere she went, the models were the same ones Chronos students commonly used. The M1911, a broke student’s best friend, and the Mauser C96, cheap due to the surplus from Gehenna’s warlord conflicts. Eh, maybe.

She did buy a C96 with a stock variant just in case, but she hadn’t settled on her main weapon. What to do?

Her悩み, like a salmon climbing a waterfall to breach the Tea Party’s walls, deepened from lunch until the western sun set. Starting with Why doesn’t anything suit my taste?, her thoughts veered toward questioning her mental health. Then, a clatter—from a small gun shop in the corner of the market.

Mitsuki dragged her exhausted body forward, not even mustering a shred of hope. With 800,000 yen still in her pocket, she couldn’t bear to return home without spending it all.

“Chronos student, huh? What’s your business?”

A gruff old man, Shigorzav, asked. Mitsuki’s parched lips trembled.

Just… looking for something worth buying.

The old man stared at his rare customer, then clicked his tongue. Mitsuki frowned, thinking he was mocking her, but his hearty laugh caught her off guard. You’ve been striking out all day, haven’t you?!

…How did you know?

The question burst out as a spark of passion flared within her. Could she dare hope—a tiny sliver of expectation?

How many years had old Shigorzav worked in this shop? A half-century, meeting enough students to fill Kivotos. He’d seen plenty like Mitsuki—or worse—and read her like an open book.

Child’s play, like sipping cold miso soup. The girl amused him, so he laughed freely.

“Look at the display case in front of you. Bet there’s stuff you haven’t seen. Take your time browsing, even ‘til night falls. Make those wasted hours worth something.”

“…If you say so. Oh, and thanks, sir. Sincerely.”

Less than ten minutes later, Mitsuki picked up a pistol: the Mars Automatic Pistol—a Webley Mars.

According to the old man, it was probably the most powerful handgun around.

Half-doubting his grandiose claim, Mitsuki test-fired it. As always, she held her camera in one hand and pulled the Mars’ trigger with the other. A sharp report echoed through the gun shop.

…Wow.

Her impression: heavy. The gun itself was large and weighty, but the recoil… Isn’t this just a rifle?

She liked the unique rotating bolt. It was one of the few firearms that suited her taste. Not some Gehenna Disciplinary Committee rifle—though the mechanism differed—but a rotating bolt opening the chamber! The recoiling barrel, the unusually long barrel, and the legendary tale of its handcrafted nature all won her over. How could she not buy it?

Mitsuki secured her destiny and a hefty stack of ammo for 760,000 yen.

Whether the old man’s claimed original price of 1.2 million yen was true, she’d never know, but both Mitsuki and Shigorzav felt they’d made a good deal, so all’s well, right?

“…Honestly, 1.2 million seems like a stretch.”

Siga Mitsuki shrugged. The camera flash she’d recklessly triggered worked wonders—the Arius student, face hidden by a gas mask, froze in panic. A sly grin spread across Mitsuki’s face.

“Right, new friend?”

Click—she pulled the trigger, the shot ringing through the corridor.

The Chronos School editorial chief—though her heart still belonged to the social affairs department—broke a new record for military feats.

***

It didn’t take long to realize I was the first student to breach the trenches. But the harsh reality of military feats is that Trinity’s offensive had already effortlessly overrun the trench fortifications.

The hastily built trenches in the Basilica plaza were no obstacle. Their attempt at a siege was a miserable failure.

The reason the front’s collapse was delayed? Simply put, a sizable number of scattered Arius Branch students had gathered. Not enough to turn the tide—just enough to be a temporary nuisance.

You know what they call these types in Kivotos? The “base of the pyramid”—those who bear the heaviest burden with nothing to gain. Years of reporting have shown me plenty of students in that sorry state.

Anyway, as those kids got ground down, Trinity reached the Arius Basilica.

The problem? They won’t surrender.

The Arius Basilica lives up to its name in scale. Roughly estimated, it’s a rectangular main building spanning hundreds of meters—why the hell is Trinity’s strategic map in inches and yards?—flanked by annexes.

Leaving the annexes aside, occupying a main building the size of a city district is no small feat.

[This is the front-line comms HQ. Reports indicate these guys have no intention of surrendering! Should we request artillery to shell the compound?! We’re running out of time!]

[The acting commander has issued a directive prohibiting shelling within the Basilica. Request denied.]

…Of course, Trinity District’s students are leading this war, and Chief Hikari takes all the flak. Haha, why would our chief issue such an irrational order?

In the main building’s corridor, I called a few squads with a flare. They didn’t seem to be Tea Party affiliates—independent units, probably.

As they caught their breath, a girl carrying a flagpole caught my eye. Unlike the standard school emblem, it was painted a deep blue—almost as blue as Chief Hikari’s uniform—Trinity General School’s symbol.

“What, a Chronos student? How’d you get in here?”

“First off, I’m your senior, so watch the tone. Hmm… Alright, I’ve decided. Friends, we’re heading to the rooftop.”

The students were floored by the bombshell.

“What?! You—er, senior—look, we’ve got a lot to say! For one, we can’t follow orders from a non-Trinity student, and more importantly, how many floors do we have to climb? How are we supposed to break through? What’s in it for us?”

“Pfft… I’ll concede the first point, but you’ll get something out of it.”

The honor and glory of starring in my photos, plus a decent chance—maybe around 50%—of boosted recognition.

“I’m an editorial staffer, you know. I’ll put your pictures on the front page.”

“…The front page? So we’d be in Chronos’ next issue?”

Smart girl. I’ve got the authority to put their photos—as long as they’re decent enough—on the morning paper’s front page, and I’m confident I’d abuse that power to keep a promise.

“My photography skills are top-notch. I’ll take some killer shots. I swear, cross my heart.”

The squad leader still looked hesitant.

“…You mean it?”

“Dead serious.”

“If you break your promise, there’s gotta be a penalty. What’ll you cover?”

Gotta make it Trinity-style.

“If I break my word? …Miracle 5000.”

“Deal.”

The Trinity student’s eyes lit up at the keyword.

***

While most students were clearing the Basilica’s first floor, five students ascended the stark white façade.

The squad leader’s name may not be recorded, but this historic moment will endure until the day it’s called the High Ancient Era. Alongside the name of the chronicler, Siga Mitsuki (Chronos School Editorial Chief, 17 years old)!

Brandishing the noble cause of Miracle 5000, the squad cleared every enemy on the stairwell in under ten minutes. Is it some kind of buff item for Trinity students?

Whatever. It’s not like I’m profiting unfairly. My job’s just to take photos.

“Hold on a sec. We still need to plant the flag.”

“No rush, time’s on our side. Setting up the shot takes a while anyway.”

A rugged black-and-white box camera—a revered heirloom in my family—might’ve been damaged in the firefight. Thankfully, it was pristine.

I slid open the side cover and extended the internal lens. The wrinkled leather connecting the lens to the body was as charming as ever.

“…This should do it. Alright, you snap the shot, and we’re done, right?”

“Exactly.”

I gauged the composition through the small hole on the camera’s top. I focused for a dozen seconds.

A square glass on the verge of discoloration, framed by inky leather, and the deep blue patina of time woven between. The speckled rust—I’ll clean it off soon—but the rest… better left as is.

A momentous record like the fall of Graecorum deserves a precious tool, don’t you think?

I waited endlessly, seconds stretching like minutes.

Click.

Shiga Mitsuki
2480×3508, exposed on film