Since my Useless Working Sister and Other Troublemakers Became Magical Girls, I have no Choice but to Support Them.

Chapter 1-11: The One-Legged Girl in a Wheelchair, Kamihashi Haruka

I decided to tease Rafio a bit.

“She’d make a good magical girl, don’t you think? She’s in elementary school, right? She’s already pretty strong.”

“No way! I don’t want someone like her joining us!”

“Does she have suitability?”

“…She does. And it’s not bad. She’s not as good as Aina, but she’s pretty good.”

He was oddly straightforward about these things.

“Shall we ask her then?”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Rafio, sensing danger to himself if Tsumugi got involved, rejected the idea with all his might. It was an instinctual, desperate refusal. I also opposed making Tsumugi a magical girl. She was just a child. Being suitable to become one didn’t mean she should.

“We would have asked the police or the self-defense forces from the beginning if we had to rely on an elementary student.”

“So that did cross your mind?”

I was a bit surprised, but it made sense.

Asking the government or public institutions would be better than relying on ordinary people like us.

“I thought about it, but I didn’t think the authorities would cooperate with a suspicious character like me who appeared out of nowhere.”

“So, you do realize you’re suspicious too.”

“Also, I was afraid they’d send me to a research facility for dissection experiments.”

That’s a rather strong prejudice against authority.

“More importantly, I wanted to avoid public institutions knowing our identities. Bureaucrats tend to share information widely, and the fewer people who know our true identities, the better. Especially when we don’t know their identities.”

It was also a choice made considering our safety.

“There’s another reason. Government responses are often slow. I thought it would be better to recruit people on the spot where the Fire Eater appeared.”

Ultimately, the urgency of the situation forced us to act that way.

While we were talking, I arrived at the bus stop near the apartment. There were already a few people waiting for the bus, and Rafio quieted down, hiding in my bag.

He was smart enough to understand his position.

“Yuuma, good morning!”

One of the people waiting for the bus noticed me and greeted me. The greeting came from a much lower height than mine.

Kamihashi Haruka, a girl from my class, wearing the same high school blazer as me.

She lived in a house near my apartment.

Though we went to the same elementary and middle schools because we lived close by, we were never in the same class, so we were just acquaintances.

We started talking more after ending up in the same class this year and waiting at the same bus stop in high school.

“Good morning, Haruka.”

I greeted her back, looking down.

It wasn’t because she was short.

It was because she was in a wheelchair.

Haruka was in a standard wheelchair, moving by turning the wheels with her hands. I glanced at her lower body.

One of her legs, extending from her short skirt, was missing from the thigh down.

Haruka didn’t have a left leg.

It wasn’t congenital; she lost it in an accident.

About six months ago, there was a gas explosion at a family restaurant where she was dining with her family, and debris completely crushed her left leg.

Back then, she was a first-year student and a promising member of the track team, expected to become an ace. I remember seeing an article in the school newspaper about her excellent performance in a competition, featuring a picture of her in a yellow uniform. She had to quit the club.

Despite such a painful experience, Haruka remained a cheerful girl.

“Thank you every day! I can’t get on the bus alone, so I need your help, Yuuma!”

She said this as I helped her onto the arriving bus.

It didn’t have to be me. The bus driver would always come out with a ramp, and I’d push her wheelchair up. It’s a job anyone could do, but I did it because we were in the same class.

It felt nice to be appreciated.

“By the way, isn’t today the day for physical measurements?”

“Oh, yeah, it is.”

Haruka, seated in the wheelchair-accessible spot, talked to me from her seat in front of mine.

I hadn’t really thought about it, but it was indeed the day for measurements. At the beginning of the semester, we’d measure height, weight, and vision.

Many girls reportedly dieted in preparation for this day. There were scenes of joy and sorrow over weight changes, with everyone feeling the pressure.

Haruka seemed different.

“This will be my first physical measurement since I lost a leg! I should be lighter with one leg missing!”

“Is that how it works?”

I understood her point.

“But if you eat normally, the nutrients that would go to your left leg might go elsewhere, making it easier for you to… get fat, right?”

“F-fat?!”

I tried not to say “gain weight,” but it didn’t seem to matter. Haruka turned to me with a fixed smile.

“Alright! Starting tomorrow, I’m dieting!”

“Tomorrow, huh?”

“Maybe I’ll start today! I might skip lunch!”

She seemed hesitant to make a firm commitment.

“Skipping meals isn’t a good idea. It’s unhealthy.”