Emeth

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Why must you hurt yourself? Can't you see I'm in pain, too?"
~~~
"I've made progress, haven't I? So, why does my heart still hurt?"

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Shatterscape thought she had left behind an orderly house. She had talked it through properly with Rei, explaining why she wanted to investigate the city near the coast and had everything figured out, cover story included. She had said her good byes with a heavy heart, but she thought she had the lead on something that could improve her body-shaping abilities. It seemed to have been worth it when she started out. Now, as she marched through the hospital, barely restraining herself from ripping doors off their hinges, it proved a worse than useless endeavour.

She should have gotten injured in Evil Eye’s stead!

Teeth grit, she leapt from door to door, hallway to hallway, leaving a whirlwind of people and objects in her wake. The sheer force of her approach turned the hospital upside-down, but she refused to care as she menaced everything in her way. Her gauntlets slammed nurses into walls. Her legs kicked doctors aside. She bent hospital beds that dared to interrupt her. She almost ripped doors off their hinges.

When Kiyo awoke to another hospital, it was in a cold sweat. The buzzing of the incandescent bulbs was as unsettling as ever, and caused her to remember her encounter on the train. Her injuries were the same, the beeping of the heart monitor was the same, and it was roughly the same time of day, the light from the window being just as unbearably bright.

She had to call a nurse. She had to know that waking up in the City of Light wasn't going to be a Groundhog Day hell she'd have to relive over and over until she'd lost her mind. When the nurse arrived, her first question was where she was, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she learned that she was, in fact, in Hibusa Town, and a girl named Rei had dropped her off. Once Kiyo had calmed down and had some water, she turned her attention to her phone. It had been turned off—maybe to save the battery? Or to keep the nurses from answering to a frantic Shatterscape, she thought.

As if on cue, Kiyo could hear something tearing through the hospital. Something powerful. A magical girl? She was about to transform and flee the scene when, suddenly, she heard a familiar voice echoing, calling out her name. “Evil Eye!” she shouted. “Evil Eye!” Another door. It creaked. The wood cracked. People were running. Shouting something. Trying to run away. Madness beget madness. And then... Shuuko's phone vibrated.

Shuuko

save me

room 404

Kiyo listened as the havoc in the hospital quieted down, then suddenly moved right above her.

304* she corrected, snickering.

A room’s floor ceased to be at the gentle insistence of Shatterscape’s gauntlets as she pierced through. Bricks and mortar pelted her like rain from the sheer force of the blow, but it was nothing because her friend needed help she was injured she was right here she was—eating bad hospital food. Kiyo had sent her a picture of it. Yes, this was the "emergency."

Shatterscape blanched. She paused mid-strike as she had been about to obliterate a wall to get to her goal quicker, then grit her teeth. She was going to have words with that damned girl; it was one thing to play harmless pranks, but quite another to threaten everyone with her life. Resolute as such, the self-titled high priestess marched through the hospital at a much more sedate pace before tearing off the door of Kiyo’s room for real, ready to give her a lecture.

Even Kiyo had to be a bit startled when the ceiling outside her room collapsed. Oh, fuck. Maybe I went a bit too far. Did Rei not even call Shuuko? Seriously?! Then, the door wasn't so much opened as removed. What Kiyo saw would have been more frightening than anything in the City of Light if she weren't so certain Shatterscape would never harm her. Even so, she lost the fight against her instinct to transform immediately upon seeing that furious face. She felt her broken bones snap into place. It wasn't painful, but it was certainly strange.

Hotaru stepped forward, instead. Shatterscape reeled as their relative unity broke for a moment, just enough for the girl to claim the body as her own and pilot it across the room in a blitz then into a hug as her Herculean Gauntlets disappeared into motes of gold light just before Hotaru could have vaporised Evil Eye. Instead, the other girl “merely” ended up on the receiving end of a bone-crushing hug. “You’re all right!”

Evil Eye felt her ribs get pushed right back out of place again. "Aitatatatai! Sh'ko!" she managed as air was forced out of her lungs. She returned the hug for just a moment before starting to tap out. When she could breathe again, she reached up and patted Shuuko on the head. "I'm alright, Shuuko. I thought you already knew," she lied. "So please, don't cry. You were right, I shouldn't have traveled alone. I fucked up. Me. It's not your fault, okay?"

Even the self-styled scientist Evil Eye would be lying if she said that she fully understood the nature of Shuuko. It seemed to her that the girl with the mirror, Shuuko, fittingly enough had two sides to her: the self-proclaimed "high priestess," a good-hearted girl who was a model student, would do anything to protect the people she cared about, and got easily infuriated by obstacles she couldn't overcome easily as a result of her own high self-standards. Then, there was the "bad Shuuko," who when coaxed out of whatever shell she resided in, eagerly joined Evil Eye in her schemes, and might have appreciated her joke from earlier. It wasn't a perfect theory. There were times like this when Evil Eye made a bad call and ended up hurting Shuuko's feelings. She wouldn't bother to apologize to the Shuuko who was hurt by her text; she would simply adapt to whichever Shuuko happened to take over at this moment. This was the Shuuko that needed to know that Kiyo was going to be fine, and she wasn't a failure just because a bad thing happened.

Hotaru looked at Kiyo with a wide, beaming smile despite whatever damage she may or may not have inflicted upon her companion, not to mention her surroundings. Even now, there were panicked shouts from people evacuating the building as the staff tried their best to organise way too may people. However, Hotaru cared not for such things—she only wished to talk with Kiyo after such a long time. The others were in disagreement for once, though.

As such, after a second or two of the hug, Evil Eye could feel Shatterscape shift again as she leaned away, now possessing the very same set of cold, calculating eyes that lay upon Evil Eye when the demonic-looking dark girl entered the room. ”Has the observer of the heavens,” spoke Shatterscape as she lifted her left hand to trace Evil Eye’s jaw towards the middle of her neck, ”Thought about what it means to defraud a humble high priestess with false astrology?”

Evil Eye smiled wickedly as Shatterscape's finger found its way under her chin. "These eyes see only what is true—but these lips? Well, they speak from the heart, and the heart is, as they say, deceitful above all things, and desperately sick." When Evil Eye was transformed, it was nearly impossible to trace even a hint of what she was feeling by looking at her eyes. Were they wide open because she was fearful? Delighted? Amused? Enraptured? "And I am so desperately sick, my dear high priestess, and knowing you still care is the only cure for what ails my troubled soul."

She turned her back to Shatterscape, still smiling. "Though perhaps, in this case, prevention was the best medicine after all? So I will make it up to you..." She tucked her hair away and lowered the back of her kimono, exposing her dark magical emblem. "Touch it, and you will know all that I have seen... or I suppose you may finally smite this evil doer, if it pleases you."

“It matters not what you show this priestess!” Shatterscape responded, reaching out for Evil Eye’s shoulders to turn the Dark Girl back towards herself, and at this, even Evil Eye's notoriously invincible smile faded. Shatterscape's voice broke its usual cadence, almost snapping at her companion. “It matters that you were injured beyond the pale and yet you play it as though it were a fool’s game. Astrology and the divine are interlinked as one—how can you treat one callously while you care for the other like a precious offering bowl?”

”Is… is the concern this humble high priestess shows… so callously disregarded? Is the way she longs for the prediction of the heavens too obscure for one’s observant eyes? This humble high priestess wishes to know, for to invite harm on her well-known observer of the heavens is to invite her wrath. But said observer of heavens seems, to this humble priestess, to fail to observe such motions – for they are of the terrestrial sphere instead of the celestial one the observer longs for.”

The two girls locked eyes once more as chaos unfolded around them. The fire department had been called and were looking for a gas leak that might have explained the "explosion." Evil Eye's ears ignored their shouts, focused intently on every word of the high priestess, though it might not have appeared so. Her speech was esoteric, and would likely be dismissed as nonsense by about half of the Detention Club, but Evil Eye deciphered their meaning after only a few seconds. "Ah. That's why you're mad," she observed, with a tone that would have come across as insincere from anyone but Evil Eye. "It's not, 'even without the observer, the heavens remain,' but rather, 'without her interpreter, the high priestess will feel lost.' I see."

In simpler terms, Shatterscape was lonely, and also hurt that Kiyo didn't take better care of herself. "I have seen your heart, Shuuko, but it appears I have been away from the mirror for so long, I've lost sight of myself. Forgive me." Her smile returned, and she reached out to touch the girl's cheek.

”It is a fault as old as time.” Shatterscape nodded, her expression softening slightly, though her eyes were still as constants in the sky. ”Please make no mistake. This is the only thing this humble high priestess will ask of you: to not forsake the hand she extends towards the observer of the heavens.” She let out a long breath as she closed her eyes, the motion contrasting against her appearance. An Oni should not show trepidation as she speaks or contemplates the future. Making no move to remove the hand on her cheek, Shatterscape let the touch linger for several seconds, even as the fire brigade tried their damnedest to figure out what the hell happened here. They were searching the hospital room by room, much like her earlier, just less violently.

“You know, Evil Eye,” spoke Hotaru as Sylvia’s and Ember’s cooled heads let her retake the reins, ”You… Forget it. This won’t happen again, will it? Will you be more careful?” It sounded like a legitimate question even as from Evil Eye’s perspective, Shatterscape's speech and cadence changed at the drop of a hat.

"I wonder," Evil Eye replied enigmatically as she stroked Shuuko's face. "If I only had a mirror, Shuuko," she sighed sweetly. "Mirror, mirror... no longer on the wall, but accompanying this evil witch on the grandest journey of all. Ever vigilant, watching the all-watcher." Her smile widened. "You will keep those bright, sweet eyes on me, won't you? If you do, I'll be so very, very careful."

”And here I’d hoped you’d take the fool’s promise," replied Hotaru with an impish smile of her own as she leaned into Evil Eye’s hand, taking solace in the other magical girl’s presence. The only thing she refused to do was to close her eyes and more because of the commotion still going on in the background rather than the fact she was alone with her friend; caution always served well.

Finally, Evil Eye let go of her partner's face, and allowed a moment to pass in silence. "Well, I was going to beg you sweetly for something fried in oil and dyed in red number forty, but if it pleases you, I'll settle for something a little less exciting. A little more 'careful' —but I'm not eating that." Evil Eye picked up a cane that looked like it might've belonged to someone from Rei's inner circle, and gestured to a plate of gross hospital food that she had banished to the corner of the room to contemplate the weight of its creator's sins. Some yellowish objects cut into perfect squares appeared as if they could, at some point, have been considered something approximating a plate of macaroni and cheese. Rather than eating it, Kiyo had cut them up and assembled them into a pyramid shape as a monument to her displeasure. "Now you see, Shuuko, why I was so in dire need of rescue. It almost makes me miss Oros's cooking. Almost." She grinned. "I have no ride, so we're going wherever you want today. My treat. ...Ah, but I'm broke too. ...Shit." She clicked her tongue.

”I can’t see how hospital food’s something I have to save you from,” Hotaru continued as she walked towards what was left of the door. ”And if I’m choosing and paying tonight… it’s ramen time. Yours’ll be from hell, mine will be from heaven.” a light laugh escaped Hotaru’s lips as she reached a hand for Evil Eye to take. "Ramen?! I know I've been bad, but you could still spoil me just a little..." she pouted sarcastically as she floated up and out of her hospital bed. ”C’mon, it isn’t that far. And until then, please tell me what happened? You sounded...” A pause. Hotaru swallowed a fact she didn’t want to hear. ”… really bad. Are you sure you’re all right? I hope I didn’t squeeze you too hard.”

Flight wasn't something all magical girls had, but Evil Eye wasn't most magical girls. She wasn't particularly strong, and even her flying was more like that of a blimp than an airplane—faster than ground-based traffic speed limits in most places, but not by much. She didn't intend to fly, though; she just took Shuuko's hand and let the girl pull her along like a kite. "The crash happened while I was untransformed, so my real body is just fine. The cane makes me look like I have a little class, though, don't you think?" She lifted it up next to her head as if to tip an imaginary hat. Then, she looked up at the ceiling soberly. "...Several broken ribs and an ankle. Walking sucks, and it hurts when I breathe too deep, which happens when I walk. Got painkillers though. I'll make a full recovery, but it may take some time. It'll only be a problem when I have to be 'Kiyo.' Which... is most of the time. I get to use the nurse's office whenever I want, though, so it can't be all bad."

Hotaru frowned as she gently pulled Evil Eye along, indeed looking out for her companion as though she were a kite, or perhaps a precious helium balloon acquired after a day of fun in the theme park. She set a sedate pace even as the hospital around her also quieted down, her rampage having ceased along with its effects and therefore, investigative teams were trying to figure out what just happened here to cause so much havoc. She even saw a member of them meticulously trying to piece together what happened to one of the stretchers, so in a fit of mischief, Hotaru knocked it over.

”I’d be more than happy to escort you, Evil Eye~” she spoke, sing-song as she watched the freaked out man trying to comprehend how the stretcher could have flipped over by itself. ”That’s what the club is for, isn’t it? We help out those in need.” One could practically see the rainbow star fly from Hotaru’s wink as she led her companion out the door and towards the ramen place she had in mind. "Is that what it's for?" Evil Eye pondered idly, tapping her chin. Then she shrugged, as if she'd lost interest.

”But seriously, what happened? Your last fight wasn’t this bad.” Looking up at Evil Eye as she floated beside and slightly behind her, Hotaru let concern creep into her voice as well as her eyes.

"I was ambushed, or perhaps both of us were driving distracted and it was just an accident? It was a magical girl. Light or dark, I'm not sure. She grabbed me, and we both crashed. I blacked out and woke up in the hospital. Maybe she did, too, or maybe she took me there. I didn't stick around to find out the details."

There was a pause. Something seemed... missing, somehow. Evil Eye grinned conspiratorially. "Oh, I didn't wake up at this hospital. A different one, in the one place dark magical girls should never go to," she employed with dramatic flair. Then she paused, her smile vanishing. "You know, it was a disappointingly mundane hospital. They didn't even perform an exorcism or anything. Just gave me drugs and shooed me out the door, like gentlemen. If it were me, I'd have brought that girl to my secret laboratory and... that's if I had one, mind you. Project for another day—when I'm not broke." She smiled and continued the story, never getting back to the point about what she had in mind for her secret lab experiment.

That was how Evil Eye told stories: like a distracted driver, pointing out every other shop on the way to their destination. She'd build drama, only to go off on a rabbit trail about something mundane, like something funny she'd said to a girl on an elevator, but then casually drop a bombshell as if she were talking about the weather. It was as if she relished keeping a captive audience on their toes, and getting reactions. It was ineffective storytelling by any objective metric, especially when Evil Eye could just show Shuuko what happened—but the girls were having fun, so it didn't matter. By the end, she'd told Shuuko about everything, including a close encounter with a girl on a train who called herself badass something-or-other. Of course, in Evil Eye's version of events, she'd correctly deduced that the other girl was also up to no good, and so they'd formed an informal truce—a monstrously powerful opponent, thoroughly outfoxed by the brilliant Evil Eye, with nothing but the simple magic of words.

Hotaru grinned back at Evil Eye with a glint of mischief before she shut up and listened to her story. At first, she merely blinked in surprise while her companion regaled her with the tale of what happened in the City of Light, but the more she heard, the more she had to purse her lips to prevent herself from commenting on the story. Of course, Evil Eye likely embellished it to her, but more than the embellishment, Hotaru knew she was leaving things out. Important things. Ember also confirmed it, so it was as good as truth.

Something squeezed Hotatu's chest even as they walked side by side. A certain, slow kind of pain blossomed like a vine from deep inside, every exaggeration and dismissal of what happened a thorn on the all-encompassing plant. Even though it only advanced at the speed of molasses, it nevertheless advanced, ensnaring Hotaru’s form muscle by muscle while the tale weaved, so much that she almost reached for her heart at one point.

Near the end of the story, Evil Eye spoke as if she were tired, as though she were remembering how exhausted her escape had left her by the time Rei picked her up. Evil Eye had a complicated relationship with Rei, but the rest of the Detention Club—with the one possible exception of Earthshaker—didn't know much beyond that, and she wouldn't talk about it.

”You… You’re lucky to have escaped alive,” she spoke, but it did nothing to alleviate the pressure of the vines, nor the strange feeling in her chest. ”It’s… I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you. I’d have kicked the asses of those light girls!” No. Those were still not the words she needed to say to lift this feeling. What were they then? They did not come easy for certain.

"I'm aware of my good fortune, Shuuko. I'm aware." In a rare moment, Evil Eye closed her eyes. It was like a ritual of some kind, which meant she was about to cut the nonsense and say something serious. "Why do you think I suddenly hung up the phone without telling you where I was? Rei could have sent the whole Detention Club, but we would have all been defeated easily. Even a blind girl leading the blind like her could see that. No, I needed to escape on my own strength, vanishingly small though it may be—but make no mistake, I had no intention of sacrificing myself for anyone. I planned from the start to get out of there alive. The fact that I did is proof of my superior genius."

By the time Evil Eye was done telling her story, they'd arrived at Shuuko's destination. "I know I said I was broke, but we don't really have to pay, you know? We could just snipe what we want from the kitchen and go home." ”You’re right about not paying but… I like this place! It wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t pay for my meal,” she pointed straight at the ramen stand a couple of feet away.

It looked like it had seen far better days. Located in the middle of an alley that smelled half like death and half like junk, its neon sign seemed to have shorted out a long time ago. Its once sturdy wooden frame looked as though it were about to fall apart at the slightest poke and its chairs were half rotten, an impressive feat given their metal frames. The plastic seats in front were the only relatively intact thing, but even they were worn away by the ages. ”Now c’mon! Let’s get something in you, or you’ll wither away!

Evil Eye alighted on the ground, placing her weight on her good foot and her cane. After the girls ensured there were no eyes on them, the proud Evil Eye popped a pill and untransformed into Kiyo. She looked weak and tired, like she could indeed wither away, but there was also a kind of contented smile on her face. "Let's see it then, this special place with an unassuming appearance that you like so much."

Evil Eye's argument made too much sense, as the City of Light was filled to the brim with light magical girls. No dark girl could possibly survive there. Even two of them were too few to stand against what the city represented, however, Hotaru merely huffed that inconvenient fact away, waiting for her companion to change back into civilian form before she did, too. Even so, they were still out of place in this abandoned, run-down alleyway, but the warrior cared little for it as she yelled at the top of her lungs.

”Hey old man! Your favourite customer is back and she's brought company!” A flat, hollow sound escaped the ramen stand as she called out, almost as though someone had hit their head on a low ceiling. Low, threatening mutters followed along with a couple of steps as a man stuck his head out from between the curtains. He too, looked like he had seen better days, as his eyes looked like they went scuba diving at the bottom of the Marianna trench and dirt specked his face.

“Ah! Shuuko!” he greeted her, a smile making its way on his face. “Is it going to be the usual?”

”It is for me! My friend, though...” she said, indicating that Kiyo should speak up. ”Order whatever you want. This old man’s going to make it, isn’t that right?”

“Only within reason!” the chef responded with a fond smile on his face.

"I'll have whatever she's having, but don't make it too spicy," replied her partner with the cat's tongue. "If I start coughing, I might actually die," she joked as she shambled her way over to one of the seats. Also, if she cried, it would cause untold problems, but there was no need to say that. She observed the old man with an impenetrable gaze. He definitely sounded annoyed when Shuuko appeared, but he seemed nice enough. It would be fine, right?

“Two beef ramen bowls with extra eggs coming up,” noted the man as he ducked into his partition. Hotaru acknowledged him with an upbeat and louder than usual ‘yeah’ before she turned back towards Kiyo. "Oh shit, that sounds good right now," Kiyo whispered idly.

”How long until you recover? And how’s your bike doing?” she hadn’t seen it outside the hospital, so she feared the worst – but then again, maybe it would turn out for the best. It has been a while since they schemed to scurry away with something valuable and there was no way for them to afford a motorcycle of that quality. Not properly at least. But with some extra cleverness… Sylvia scoffed at the idea, but Ember grinned as she started going through the shops she knew.

Kiyo shrugged at Shuuko's question. "Who knows? Probably no more than about four months. Could be faster, 'cause, y'know. Young and made of fairy dust and all that." She kept her response vague in case the old man was eavesdropping. "The bike is trashed though. Maybe I'll invest in a wheelchair and you can push me around," she joked. Truthfully, there was probably a little merit to the lie she'd told to the girl who stopped her from falling down into the subway. The more she allowed her injuries to cause her to stagnate, the longer it would take to heal. Put another way, would remaining transformed as much as possible cause her healing to accelerate? Or was it the opposite? "This calls for an experiment," she declared suddenly. "On the fastest method to recovery." She steepled her fingers gleefully. Whenever she had opportunity to learn something new about magical girls, she'd suddenly get motivated like this.

”No.” Hotaru looked at Kiyo as though the latter had suggested growing seven heads between the two of them. ”You’re still trying to play that stupid game, aren’t you? Well, it isn’t working. I won’t see you hurt again, and I’m not going to see you do… whatever you want to. I’ll tie you up if I have to.” Her tone remained even, serious and tinged with just a little bit of anger.

”Your body isn't a game! I’d rather we do anything else.” Such as figuring out how to get another motorbike with the least amount of dark magical girl stuff they could get away with. That sounded much more acceptable than whatever Kiyo planned her experiment to be.

"Tie me up? Sure sounds like a game involving my body. What kind of game? Is it fun?" Kiyo inquired mischievously.

The old man announced his presence with a cough. "Beef ramen for two, extra eggs. Enjoy your, ah, evening, girls," he said uncertainly as he hobbled off.

"PFFFT." Kiyo covered her mouth as she broke into a snicker. "Puhaha, ha... ouu. Fuck, it hurts." She suppressed her laughter, eyes watering. She sniffed—but, she didn't cry. "Relax, alright? This one is elementary, and the whole De... science club benefits. We'll find out which is the fastest way for me to heal, and stick to doing that. I... thought you'd like that." She turned her attention to her food, slowly picking at it. Eating was probably not painless, either—or maybe she didn't actually have much of an appetite? "Unless this high priestess wants to nurse me back to health for as long as she can?" she accused playfully.

"You’re incorrigible.” Despite her exasperation, Hotaru could not help the smile pulling at her face, nor the slight, melodic lilt in her voice. "But it ain’t going to work. I know what you’re saying, but Kiyo, you’re…" and here, Hotaru went quiet as she shut her mouth. She did not even reach for her bowl of ramen as she looked her companion up and down. Teeth sunk into lips as the proper words failed to bubble to the surface for several seconds, which resulted in Ember embracing her inside the confines of their shared thoughts.

”You don’t have to rush, Hotaru. I’m sure you’ll be able to find the words you are looking for eventually. Even if you don’t, I will be here to help you all the way.

”It’s so frustrating!” Hotaru almost punched the ramen stand, only a hair’s restraint standing between her and ill-considered violence. ”I don’t even know what it is…!” On the outside, the silence dragged on.

Kiyo sighed. "You're not the only one who can't find the right words, Shuuko." She laid her chopsticks into the side of the bowl. "Scientific progress demands sacrifice. A grievous injury to my body and the loss of my bike may seem an unacceptable price, but it's less than what I paid to meet you and the other club girls. That's why, I won't weep over the sins that brought me this far. You shouldn't either. There may or may not be light at the end of the tunnel, but standing still or turning back halfway is a death sentence when there's a train coming." The train was, of course, Ashbringer, but Hotaru wouldn't realize that until much later that night, after giving it some deeper thought.

”Scientific progress my left buttcheek! We’re talking about you here, Kiyo!” The sentence burst out of Hotaru without warning, the words uncontrolled and free. ”You aren’t some… experiment or something! What the hell gave you that idea?” Squeeze. Something started to gather inside Hotaru’s body, feeling as if someone had put her in a vice, then started to apply pressure all over her skin. She did not like it. Neither did Sylvia or Ember.

”She shouldn’t put herself in danger!" Sylvia all but shouted at the top of her lungs inside their skull. ”It’s bad enough I couldn’t protect her properly, but now…"

”Yeah. She shouldn’t be thinking like that, girls. ‘Ru, could you please find out why she is trying to do… whatever she’s trying to do?

”And what the hell do you even want to do? Why do you think it’s so important to find this out? I can’t keep breaking your bones or something to see what happens.” Hotaru continued her outburst seamlessly despite the small pause, reaching out to Kiyo. She lay a hand on the other girl’s uninjured shoulder, resting it there as concern wavered in her eyes.

Kiyo winced. She looked like she was in pain, and a little annoyed. "Why? Should I tell you my ambitions when you seem so keen on getting in my way?" she asked pointedly. "Besides, my burdens are not some practical problem that can be solved by just telling someone. On the contrary, it's more like Roko's Basilisk." She seemed like she had more on her mind, but chose not to pursue the thought any further. "Forget it. In the short term, my goal was to find a way to solve our current problem, and I've succeeded. All that remains is to put proven theory into practice—and, next club meeting, I'll divulge my plans on how we can accomplish that. We will commence Operation Granfalloon together."

A long pause followed that declaration. Hotaru stared at her companion without touching her meal, drawing the moment out before she lifted her left hand to lay it on Kiyo’s shoulder. Considerable weight hid behind the touch: a lesson imparted or perhaps an experience won through sheer grit. Perseverance. The act of passing on knowledge between mother and daughter, a sacred ritual that could not be used for any other purpose.

She moved with the speed of lightning to apply one of her fabled Nuclear Forehead Flicks, pulling on some of her magical strength to convey her feelings on whatever Kiyo just said, then withdrew the arm before the other girl could exact any form of revenge. Kiyo's head flew back, but she just managed to stay in her chair. She closed her eyes, something she hardly ever did, while she reeled. "AHH!! What the hell, Shuuko?! If I wasn't all juiced up on pills, that would've really hurt!"

”I don’t understand a single word you’re saying. Roko’s Basilisk, problems you’ve already solved, Operation Granfalloon… What’s that supposed to mean? I know you aren’t one for directness, but come on!” Hotaru narrowed her eyes, neither her gaze, nor her face smiling at all. ”Give me something to work with or I’ll just get you a motorbike and call it a day.”

”She is not making sense to me either.” Ember shrugged in their shared mental space. ”And there’s no way I’m letting children get hurt again. Not if I can help it.” Sylvia nodded in support of the notion, her teeth grit.

”I swear, if she’s thinking of something stupid again…”

Kiyo sat quiet for a moment, waiting until she stopped seeing stars. Soon enough, though, she was giggling again, like nothing had happened. "Heh. 'Give me what I want, or I'll give you something you want and be done with it.' You're so demanding~" She smiled, but Shuuko was not. Seeing her so stubborn seemed to annoy her, but she also seemed to come to her senses and relent a little.

"Look, it's like this... While this high priestess is so focused on protecting my body, the observer of the heavens wishes to protect something... a bit more ethereal." She turned her attention back to her food. "You'll have to figure out what that is on your own. If I told you, you'd either tell me I'm stupid for worrying about it, or get dragged into my delusions. Hence, Roko's Basilisk. Once its eye hits you, your fate is sealed. It's an info hazard. You're better off not knowing. You knowing about it doesn't make my burden easier to carry; it just burdens you too." She hid her pouting face behind the excuse of having egg in her mouth. "No spoilers on Operation Granfalloon. We get stronger by making others do the work for us. That's the gist. Wittew Kwiyo-chwan won't even break a sweat. Happy now?" She averted her eyes toward the direction they'd come from, her voice a little sassy.

”This ‘high priestess’”, the thick mockery along with the quotation marks in Hotaru’s voice could only be missed by the deaf or the willingly ignorant, “can’t help unless you talk.” A sigh. Hotaru shook her shoulders as though she were trying to get the rain off herself. Like Kiyo, she turned towards her steaming ramen, reaching for the chopsticks and snapping them in half. She asked for another pair that she stabbed into her dish with the viciousness of a crocodile ripping her prey apart.

”Hotaru…” warned Sylvia with a gentle voice, but the other girl just ignored her, bulling through the problem.

”I get it if you can’t say it, but this isn’t funny. First you want me to start breaking your bones, and now you’re not even hinting at what you’re planning? And how do you plan on getting stronger without any effort on your part anyways? My strength doesn’t come from sitting at a ramen stand and not lifting my pretty ass, you know!” She slapped her butt for emphasis with a loud smack, leaving behind a red mark.

”You'll scare Kiyo, Hotaru. I'm sure she has her reasons for not explaining...”

”Then she can damn well explain those.”

Kiyo covered her mouth, trying to hold back a snicker that was sure to cause absolute agony. She wasn't looking at Shuuko, but she could hear the slap, and the mental image she conjured was even funnier than the real thing. "Shuuko, how the fuck did you get the idea that I want you to break my bones? My bones are already broken, I'm not breaking any more," she assured her softly, wheezing. ”You’re… not? Eyes wide, mouth opening, Hotaru looked as though she had just been told something revolutionary, idiotic, completely out of the left field or all three. "Did you miss something I said? Am I boring you?" Kiyo smiled as though it didn't matter. Again, though, she paused, her smile vanishing when Shuuko didn't return it.

She made that expression like she was in pain, again. "Do you think me so cruel, Shuuko? That I would have fun breaking myself just to see your reaction? Have I... wounded you so deeply that you don't trust me?" Tears of darkness welled up in Kiyo's eyes, but still, she did not allow herself to cry. "Ah... The price of my scientific progress just... went up. It was too high. It's completely unacceptable." She sniffed. "Shuuko, what I want to protect... feels far away, when you won't smile at me. Of course my well-being isn't a joke. I just wanted something that hurt you to be something you could laugh at, instead. I just want you to smile. Your worrying... hurts."

'If we can't even pretend to be happy, then what was it all for? Why put everything on the line?' That's what my heart is saying. Such a simple feeling, even a child could understand it. So, not having the right words is all a sham, I guess...

”But, Kiyo… argh! I’ve been such an asshole then!” This time, she let her chopsticks drop into her ramen before she clenched her fist. Then she gave herself a Nuclear Forehead Flick, leaving behind an angry red mark just about where she had given Kiyo one. ”Sorry… Really. It’s just… how else do you test for healing? That’s why I thought you were going to hurt yourself.” Meeting Kiyo’s eyes head on, Hotaru laid her hand on her fellow magical girl’s forehead, then tried to wipe away the hurt she had dealt just a moment prior. She let it linger as though it would undo what could not be undone, hoping that her palm was cool enough to give at least a bit of relief.

While Shuuko rubbed Kiyo's forehead, Kiyo looked around, ensuring there were no eavesdroppers. She did this with her Mogall as much as with her own eyes. "Transformation. I wondered if it had any positive effect on how quickly we could heal, or if our human bodies are essentially frozen in time while not in use. Since healing will take months, I can try spending most of my time in one body for a bit, then switch out until I figure out what's faster, or if it makes any difference. If there's no clear winner, then the best thing to do would just be to use my transformation as much as possible, since I won't be in pain. I'd hope for that result. I've got two-to-one odds, after all." She smiled a little.

”Uhh… well… err… This high priestess… also considers her observer of the heavens to be important. I wouldn’t get mad at you for getting hurt if I didn’t.” Stating the obvious, Hotaru turned back to her ramen with blitzing speed, as though she wanted to hide something. And come to think of it, just what had been the look in her eyes when she looked at Kiyo? There had been a soft quality to it, the normally inquisitive gaze of the high priestess far too kind.

Kiyo stood up. "No, I'm the asshole, Shuuko. For you to think I would treat myself as less than a guinea pig, I must have done something to erode your faith in me. If not all at once, then in a hundred little ways, each one by itself not worth fighting over, but piling up all the same. ...I'm sorry." She leaned on Shuuko, a hand on her left shoulder and Kiyo's chin on her right. In her current state, it was probably the closest she could comfortably get to giving Shuuko a hug.

'Sorry?' When was the last time Kiyo apologized properly? She was always telling people "don't be mad" or "forgive me." "Thanks for the meal, Shuuko. It was good. But now, I want to rest. Would you please take me home?" So now, there was a 'please and thank you,' too? It was unlike her, but if it meant she was reflecting on her actions properly, maybe it didn't matter. After all, Kiyo was coming home, and their shared apartment hadn't felt like home in a while, not without Evil Eye's nefarious giggling coming from the other room late into the night.

”...Yeah. Still. Sorry again.” Hotaru carefully reached around Kiyo, pulling her closer with great care. Neither her grip, nor her pull were strong and if the other magical girl resisted just a little bit, she would stop. It was just that it felt nice to embrace Kiyo like this, the warmth slowly spreading through Hotaru’s body along with her faster-than-usual heartbeat. Maybe it was also stronger? She could hardly tell with the two of their bodies pressed so close together.

”I will take you home, sure.” A gentle squeeze. ”Did that hurt? I’m sorry, I’m not sure how… well… you know.” She shook her head before a grin took over it. Kiyo winced, but Shuuko was so close to her that there was no way for her to see it. "It doesn't hurt," she lied. The truth was that it didn't hurt enough for her to forsake the hand extended to her by the high priestess. The hug certainly didn't hurt as much as it did when Shuuko looked at her coldly and refused to smile. ”Anyways. It’s all water under the bridge, yes? I jumped to conclusions and you’re being a mad scientist like usual. Too bad you’re way too adorable.” Hotaru averted her eyes from Kiyo as she spoke, using her free hand to destroy whatever was left of her meal between two words, then slapping some cash onto the counter.

Ai-chan, are you unaware of how adorable you are? That's kinda dicey, y'know?

Adorable... Kiyo's free hand idly reached up to the bridge of her nose, to adjust a pair of glasses that hadn't been there since the day she became a magical girl—an ingrained nervous habit she still engaged in when she wasn't sure what to say or do. It barely concealed a light blush, until it subsided. Shuuko loosened their embrace a little, just so she could turn towards her companion and look her in the eyes with a shit-eating grin on her face. ”Princess carry?”

"I'm incorrigible?" she replied, her eyes absent as she checked their surroundings with Mogall. Confirming that the coast was clear, she transformed—not to make herself lighter or easier to carry, or because Shuuko might accidentally hurt her—but because Evil Eye was almost always smiling, so that stupid look on her face was just a bit more permissible. "Oh, fine," she consented, putting up just a little fuss with her words, but moving into position to be carried all the same. She looked up, but the night sky wasn't there. It was still the afternoon, but still, she wanted to sleep.

”I guess it’s good night, my princess.” One would think that a dark magical girl used to getting her way by the sweep of her gauntlets or the sheer, mauling power of the massive claws attached to it, would have trouble carrying an oh-so-fragile maiden without menacing her. They would be wrong, as Hotaru transformed—knowing that Evil Eye had already looked around—and immediately dismissed her Devil Arms before she gingerly took Kiyo into a princess carry. Her passenger felt only a slight jolt as she was lifted with great care, arms positioning themselves into a most comfortable place. Then Hotaru placed a kiss onto Kiyo’s forehead with the same, wide grin on her face. Evil Eye blinked.

And then, Shatterscape blasted off into the skies with a tremendous explosion beneath her feet. The ground shattered into thousands of pieces, all of which miraculously missed the ramen stand all the while presenting a mystery for the repair crews or investigators to solve later. She did not care. She merely propelled herself, channeling magic into her body as she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, cutting through Hibusa Town. ”Much better than the taxi, right?” Riotous laughter followed that, more because of the feeling of pseudo-flight than the non-joke Hotaru made. ”You look like you're still thinking hard though...” She followed up as she glanced down at Evil Eye in her arms.

"I'm always thinking hard," Evil Eye replied dismissively as their eyes met.

If I used my magic right now, I could make you understand. Would that be immoral? Or is refusing to do so the cowardly choice?

I know that, as a source of warmth and comfort, I'm inadequate. I'm a pretty poor older sister.

But I can at least refrain from burdening you with life's tough questions, so you're not tempted by the abyss.

So, why do I still feel like I've lost something important..?

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Oh boy oh boy, we finally get to interact together! But haven’t we done this before?”

"Haah?! Look over here, and I’ll set that faulty memory of yours straight. Maybe a few other things too."

Even dark magical girls couldn’t escape book reports.

Normally Suki would find an excuse to skip such things, but her grades were falling kind of low, and it would be unfortunate if she couldn’t be part of the club because she dropped out. It didn’t help that the book in question was effectively a history lesson. History did not interest Suki. The past did not interest Suki. There was very little to gain by reading inaccurate accounts of what had already happened. If she was going to read about the past, then they could at least spice it up by adding something cool like vampires or magical princesses.

Suki didn’t have a computer at her shared home, so she was using the Detention club’s own computer to write her report. But she was still in the process of motivating herself, so not much actual writing had been done yet. She had watched several videos, made a few posts on social media platforms, and watched a virtual content creator talk about virtual content creators. Occasionally she would close a tab and stare at the word processor that held the entirety of her progress, which was getting the program open to a blank page. Her eyes started to glaze over when she thought about what it would take to hit that two-thousand word benchmark for a passing grade. Kiyo must have quite a bit of work piled up too, she reassured herself. She had missed quite a few classes, and couldn’t have had a great record with the school either. She wondered if she was making an effort to get caught up.

As if to answer Suki's pondering, there was a knock. Then, there was another. Then, another. It wasn't the door, but something out in the hall.

"Thanks, Shuuko. No, I got it. Thanks."

A familiar voice came muffled through the door—but also, it wasn't familiar. Kiyo was not a "please and thank you" kind of girl, nor was she accustomed to speaking softly. Soon, though, the door opened, and sure enough, it was Kiyo. "Oi, are you still playing games on that thing? Some of us take our education seriously, you kn—" Kiyo flicked on the light. "Oh." She blinked. Apparently, she had been expecting someone else. "Good day, Jaws." Suki just sat there, looking over her shoulder at the newly arrived. Kiyo stepped the rest of the way through the door, and it became apparent what the knocking sound was. Her foot was bound up in a cast, and she was walking with a cane, an overstuffed book bag likely full of overdue assignments hanging from her shoulder. She eagerly relieved herself of her burden, unceremoniously throwing it onto the nearest cheap folding table. It bent slightly on impact. She walked slowly closer to Suki, eyeing the blank word processor inquisitively. "Riveting stuff so far. I daresay the words are flying off the page. Wonder when they'll come back?" she remarked, deadpan. It was a typical "Kiyo comment," not to be taken too seriously.

"Probably once inspiration strikes.” Suki didn’t know where she stood with Evil Eye. It was almost like they were two characters in a show that finally had some screen time together, but there was no script and Suki and Kiyo were expected to improv. Once upon a time she had given Kiyo her own nickname, but that had been lost to time. All she could remember was “Eyeball,” which worked a lot better for Evil Eye than it did Kiyo. Her gaze returned to the empty screen. Suki had tried to start several times, but after watching a video or two it didn’t look right and she ended up deleting it. Now under Kiyo’s gaze, she couldn’t bring herself to type a single word. Just because Kiyo was in a good mood now didn’t mean it was going to stay that way. "I uh, wasn’t sure if you were coming back. But with Handy’s return, I guess it was just a matter of time, heh!”

"There were whispers that I wasn't coming back, huh? Interesting," Kiyo remarked, in a manner that instantly reminded herself of Rei and caused her lip to curl with a hint of annoyance. She turned her head back to look at her pile of work, beads of sweat creeping down her cheek. "...You can have the computer. I'm just going to read, for now." She slowly made her way over to the table, sat down and began flexing the hand that'd been holding the crutch and massaging it a little as she spoke. "In the end, I got what I wanted out of my ill-fated solo adventure, but at an unacceptable cost. It's a pyrrhic victory."

"I uh, I see.” Suki said, having absolutely no clarity to interpret Kiyo’s cryptic statement. She believed that Kiyo was a loose cannon, someone wholly unpredictable aside from their tendency towards chaos. It wouldn’t have surprised her if she left forever, nor was it surprising to see she had returned. Even Nyx, who confounded Suki, felt easier to understand than the mysterious, all-seeing, Kiyo.

She had prepared to type again, this time getting out a good sentence or two before noticing Kiyo’s reflection in the monitor. It was hard to stay focused with someone else in the room. In addition to Kiyo being unpredictable, she was kind of a hottie today. Not a full on super cutie, which was Suki’s favorite type. Hotties were generally aware of how attractive they were, and tended to flaunt it a bit. Cuties were more oblivious to their beauty, with super cuties being the very pinnacle of purity and beauty. Below the hotties were the baddies, who fully leaned into their feminine wiles and sported an air of danger and worldly awareness. Normally Suki would classify Kiyo as a baddie, but seeing her innocently read while dressed to the nines…

When was the last time she had seen her like this?

…

…

…

Suki was new to Hibusa Town, but she knew a few things about the place. First and foremost, she knew Penny would never bring her band of light girls to look for her here. That was why she had decided to come to this town to begin with, but that was because Hibusa town had an infamous dark magical girl team. Apparently their leader had been a real menace in the City of Light and decided to move her base of operations here. While they weren’t actively hunting Suki like Penny was, there was no guarantee that they would be friendly either.

After an unsuccessful night of dumpster diving, she decided to try going to the cafeteria to get something to eat. It shouldn’t be too hard to sneak in as a student. She didn’t have a uniform, but that hadn’t stopped her from getting served in other schools. A few students looked at her funny, but no one had confronted her yet. She avoided making eye contact with everyone while going to the counter as quickly as she could.

Just then, though, something red and black caught the corner of Suki's eye. Then, it caught her attention. An older girl who could've only been a senior was eating alone at a table by a window. Her black hair had that coveted sheen to it, like the feathers of a raven or the silky coat of a proud black cat. It reflected the light from the window just so, in that way where anyone who saw it would know that it would be just as soft and warm and—yes, taboo to touch. The inside of her hair was highlighted red, somewhat reminiscent of the hood of a cobra. It added notes of danger and a hint of defiance. Here was a girl who was above the dress code, but also demanded to be taken seriously. Above all, it ought to have warned not to get closer.

Most striking of all were her eyes. They were mesmerizing, in a way that, if she wasn't a magical girl, was magical nonetheless. They alone elevated her look from the level of an average hottie to a true foreign beauty—for though her hair was black, the eyes did not lie. Perhaps her mother was Japanese, and her father was a foreign businessman. Naturally, he would never be home, and this femme fatale look was born of rebelliousness. Was that why she kept others at arm's length? Was she a lonely soul, resigned to her fate to graduate without even a single friend?

She ate her boxed lunch of shrimp scampi and charcuterie with the practiced elegance of someone who knew she would be watched. Her delicate fingers brought a small, ladylike bite to her lips, which slightly parted, just so, and exhaled, blowing the steam from the freshly reheated shrimp. Then, suddenly, her eyes flicked in Suki's direction, and eye contact was established. They were curious, evaluating, piercing—but, they weren't hostile. She was inviting her, right? After all, she hadn't merely glanced—she was practically staring, now.

One of the cafeteria staff cleared his throat politely. Before she knew it, Suki was next in line.

But nothing he did could stop Suki from staring back at the girl a second longer. She rolled her eyes towards the man behind the counter, giving him a sideways glance. Like she had suspected, he was unconcerned with the dress code and just wanted to end his shift as soon as possible. She slid her money across the counter and he departed without a word. Her eyes returned to the girl she couldn’t quite classify.

Suki wasn’t totally oblivious. She knew she was ugly, and she wasn’t dressed to impress anyone. She had slept in her clothes for several days and didn’t have a chance to iron them. She had even turned her underwear inside out to get a few more days out of them, but girls like that usually had exotic taste so, maybe?

A tray was placed beside Suki. When she turned to look at it she could see a few bowls filled with vegetables and one with chunks of chicken, all boiled. There was also an orange slice and a carton of milk. It wasn’t nearly as appetizing as that girl’s bento box, but hunger was the best spice. She took her tray, nodded at her server, and turned to approach.

Only to trip up on the leg of a chair.

She fumbled, falling flat on her stomach. But she managed to hold her tray the entire way down. The only thing she lost was the orange wedge, which flipped over the edge of the tray and landed on the floor. Suki took the wedge, knocked as much of the dust off of it as she could, and shoved it in her mouth before standing up. She didn’t look back.

If this were a typical high school sitcom, there might have been much laughter as a result of Suki's fall. Most of the girls had muted reactions, and a few gasped in surprise, but only one was stifling a giggle. She had just returned her attention to her meal when Suki sat down across from her. This seemed to surprise her, for some reason.

Once she was at the girl’s table, Suki placed her tray across from her and slid into place. She reached inside her mouth and peeled the orange in her mouth before setting the skin off to the side of her tray. The fruit was swallowed without a bite, and without fuss.

"I like your hair.”

The girl made a sound like she'd suppressed a gag at the smell—but then, she laughed. "...Really? That's all I get? You like my hair?" Her emphasis suggested she found the notion absurd, but her tone of voice betrayed amusement. Then, she looked away, flipping her hair in front of the side of her face that Suki could see. "Well. It's not the first thing most people notice," she allowed, enigmatically.

Of course, Suki had thought. Her eyes were her most prominent feature, but they could never be Suki’s favorite part of anyone. Eyes were the one thing that, regardless of how intimate the relationship, were not good to touch.

The girl rested her cheek on her hand and peered at Suki over the tips of her fingers, giving her a side-eye. "You're not from Hibusa Town, are you? If you were, you should know that this is, like... the VIP table," she lied with a mischievous smile that Suki couldn't see but might have been able to hear. "So, what are you gonna do when the Boss and her Posse show up?" She spoke of the posse as though it had nothing to do with her, and both of them were doing something taboo together by sitting at this table.

Suki’s mouth and eyes popped open. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Penny hadn’t found her, but her brow began to rest when she realized this hottie couldn’t have been referring to Penny, if she even knew who she was. It was also unlikely that she was referring to the Detention Club, as it made little sense for a magical girl to reveal themselves. It all made Suki laugh, which exposed the mouthful of food hiding behind her yellowed teeth. With another quick swallow, she slouched in her seat. "I’m not scared of some boss and her pussy!” She pulled a carton of pocky out of her vest. But when she pushed the lid open with her thumb, it revealed rows of cigarettes instead of chocolate treats. "Why, should I be?” she said before sliding one into her mouth.

"PFFFT." The girl covered her mouth and laughed, a bit like a hyena. "Nope! That's exactly it! That's the right attitude! A self-proclaimed 'boss' who doesn't lift a finger to help her subordinates is the lowest of the low, right?! People like that should just go bury themselves already."

She grinned at Suki, like she was really having fun. Another girl saw the change in the mood and thought to try sitting at the table, too, but Suki's new "friend" glared at her right away. "What." "U-Um, I just thought—" "You thought, what?! Something like, 'if Kuroki-san will talk to her, she'll definitely talk to me?' Is that it?"

"Ah, no, I just... I, um..!" She picked her tray back up, hands shaking. It was obvious that Kuroki-san had hit the nail so hard on the head that she was speechless. "I-I'm sorry..!" she mewled as she scurried away, fighting back tears. Suki’s eyes followed the girl as she departed the table, even as she lit her cigarette. That one didn’t look too bad either, but she had to focus on what was in front of her. The stakes might have been higher than she initially suspected.

Kuroki-san turned to face Suki more directly. "Well, that's me. Name's Kuroki-san. Kuro if you're in a hurry or can't be arsed, like me."

"I’m Suki!” the delinquent blurted out a little too quickly.

Kuro packed up her bento, but she didn't get up to leave, nor did she seem to be in a hurry. "I'd ask what's with that smelly getup, but I think we both know what's going on here. So, were you planning on settling in Hibusa Town?" She kept looking at her bento, idly pushing it around with a finger as though it were a ouija planchette.

"Maybe.” Suki didn’t feel like she had to be quite so guarded in front of this girl. She had an air of danger about her, but there had to be a reason she was still talking to her. "Do you like it?”

"It's quiet here; mostly boring, aside from the unexplained disappearances and UAPs. So, it's a pretty interesting town, if you're the right sort." She suddenly looked up from her bento, eyes wide and smiling. "Are you an interesting person?"

"I can be, if I’m with the right sort.”

"Nice parry!" she said in English, grinning. "Yeah. Yeah. I really like your attitude. You said your name was Suki? That's pretty funny." She didn't explain why, though. "I'm not convinced you actually have the guts to back that tough girl persona, but it doesn't matter. You got spunk in spades, like an entire sorority's worth of poor life choices. I'm here for it."

"Oh?”

She seemed pleased, somehow, but it was hard to tell if she was being complimenting or insulting sometimes. "If we're gonna keep talking, it'd be better not to have all these innocent ears around. We should meet again on the school grounds after hours. That's when the fun begins. I'll let you in on some of the inside baseball of Hibusa Town." She rolled up a sleeve and checked her watch, something that seemed increasingly old-fashioned when everyone had a cell phone. "I'm just about out of time here. Smell ya later." She flashed that enigmatic smile again and stood up, like the matter was settled.

With that whirlwind of a discussion(?) concluding, Suki could only watch as the girl slipped away from the table. She was no closer to finding out what she really wanted, or even if she wanted to give it to her, but Suki knew one thing for certain: she was being used.

Yes, Suki was quite familiar with these types. Lada, another foreign beauty, was the same way, all mysterious and confounding until it was time to cut ties. How many times had Suki treated her kindly only to be denied something as simple as a relationship? It was all so rote to her. “Kuro-san” and her must have shared the exact same playbook. Of course Suki wasn’t interesting. Anyone who looked like that would stay as far away from a smoking, stinking, ugly girl like herself. She had only taken a single puff out of her cigarette before twisting it out on the corner of the “VIP” table and walking away.

The silver lining was that she was going to be here once the school closed, and that was something that Suki could probably do something with. She had all afternoon to prepare.

But first.

This school had to have a shower room somewhere. And if she was lucky, maybe there would be a change of clothes too. Even if it was just a track suit someone forgot to take home, that would work.

…

…

…

It would have been inconvenient if this were an American school: there would be an overworked janitor to keep an eye on the place to clean up and perform repairs—but part of a Japanese school’s job was to make sure its students became good and submissive adults. Everything was cleaned by the students themselves before they clocked out. It was rare for anyone to hang around after the last bell, which was perfect for causing a bit of mischief.

During the school’s operating hours, Suki had been exploring. She discovered where all the points of interest were, including the showers which would be vital to getting rid of the smell of day-old garbage. The presence of cameras also tipped her off that there might be a security monitor room, which Suki was standing in now.

She was wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts she had found while raiding the locker room earlier. They didn’t fit perfectly, but they would do until she could wash her old outfit. There were only a few monitors, but Suki could flip between multiple cameras with the press of a button. She knew her mark would be coming to school after hours, but knew little else. The girl hadn’t given a specific time or place, so she could show up anywhere. Moreover, Suki wasn’t sure how to trap someone so enigmatic. She had wanted to lead the hottie to a specific part of the school, but figuring out how was tricky. She didn’t seem like the kind of person that would follow a trail of clothes into a shower stall. Nor did she seem like the type that would have a sudden heroic spark when they spotted a trail of blood leading into the cafeteria kitchen. What did seem like it would be appealing to Kuro's sensibilities was a note trail. Beside her extinguished cigarette on the VIP table was a note. It made some vague references to a surprise while instructing her to move to a new location she was being ‘beckoned’ to. This was a cryptic way of instructing her to go to the becoming cat statue on the other side of the school, which held another note written in the same fashion. Surely an indirect trail like this would make such a person curious, if nothing else.

Suki watched the monitors for any trace of her mark. She had raided a snack dispensary for a bag of sweetened pecans and was munching on those while she waited. Part of her wasn’t sure if she’d even show up, but the school wasn’t a bad place to stay for the night. The gym mats were comfortable enough to sleep on, but she would need to find a blanket. Her clothes weren’t exactly warm sleepwear.

♬

All was quiet in Hibusa High. Some might even quip that it was too quiet, in that cliche manner—but just before Suki could get bored, there was activity on the cafeteria monitor. Given the layout of the school, it seemed strange that there hadn't been any activity before that. Had she been hiding somewhere in the kitchen, off-camera?

"Where is that girl? I should have seen her by now. Have I lost my touch? Am I out of touch? Do I think too much?" she pondered aloud rhythmically, as if expecting an answer. She found a note, instead. "Hm. A surprise, she says. Now, what could that be?" Again, she aired her thoughts almost mockingly before turning to leave the cafeteria and enter the halls. "A cat statue. Is she saying she knows I like cats? Or could it be just a coincidence?" she pondered more quietly, more genuinely. Everything seemed to be working. Suki made a mental note that she liked cats and waited for her to get to the next note. Pretty soon it would be time to get into position.

The hottie walked down a predictable path to her destination, occasionally calling out for Suki. "Ooiii~ I'm taking time out of my super busy schedule to be here, you know?" she said with a smile on her lips. An obvious lie for her own amusement. Upon finding another note, she scowled in mild annoyance. "Search the school. Find her," she barked at... seemingly nobody. "Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, not in a million years. Where are you, my little mouse? ...Not here... Not there... Ah, there you are!" She turned to face the camera suddenly, waving at it. Her eyes looked abnormal, even in poor quality CCTV. It almost seemed like her eyes were filled with... no, they were filled with white noise. Now, the whole screen was filling up with white noise!

When the feed returned to normal, she had disappeared.

Click.

The door to the security room suddenly opened. It would be impossible for it to be Kuro, unless—

It wasn't Kuro. Instead, it was a disembodied eyeball, about the size of a softball, clinging to the door handle with its little tendrils. It blinked non-threateningly at Suki. It looked like a miseria, but there being a miseria at an empty school was more than a little odd. Besides that, it seemed to have some small spark of sentience. It lowered its eyelid, appearing mildly scandalized, as if it had only just returned from its bathroom break and wanted to ask Suki what she was doing in its chair.

Between everything, Suki didn’t have time to do much of anything but look at the newly arrived. She curled her lips over her teeth and sighed. "I should have known she was a baddie.” And probably a dark magical girl, maybe even the “boss” that she had been talking about earlier. But there were more immediate things to address, like the eyeball. If it was a miseria, Suki would have had little issue transforming on the spot, but it seemed like it was something else. Her mind raced for possibilities that ranged from the baddie having dominion over miseria to the floating eyeball being a part of her somehow. It probably wasn’t smart to transform just yet. The baddie believed she was a cat hunting a mouse, and Suki intended to keep it that way for as long as possible.

She casually walked up to the eye, cigarette clenched between her fingers. After she took a good hard inhale, she blew smoke all over it. Suki's diversion worked like a charm. The eyeball flinched and watered in the face of all that smoke. She took the opportunity to charge out of the room. Suki was about to dart down another hallway when she spotted another one of those eyes, and was pretty sure she could hear the other one creeping up behind her. She backtracked only far enough to run down to the first floor. At least she was dressed for all this running! When she turned around, though, she found not two eyeballs chasing her, but three. The eye she'd blown smoke into was crying black tears, and the tears were turning into more of the creatures. They didn't seem dangerous, but they were creepy and intent on following her. Suki was faster, though, much faster, easily outrunning their flight.

Most might have used this as an opportunity to flee the school, but not Suki. She still had her bull headed determination and was compelled to continue with her plan. If the eyeball things were smart, one of them was probably still stationed in the surveillance room, but there were still places in the school that didn’t have cameras, such as the locker rooms adjoining the showers and gym.

As soon as Suki got inside, she immediately ran to the locker that she had forced open earlier and stepped inside. This locker was where all of the notes would have led eventually, and the baddie would likely drop by if she was trying to find her “mouse.” Maybe she’d send more of those eyeballs, but it didn’t matter, because when they came to investigate the locker, they wouldn’t find Suki. She pricked her finger on her stomach tattoo, and shoved the bloody needle through the side of her head. Suki Oyama had vanished, and Oros the Joyful had taken her place.

And so she waited to start her counter attack. Her eyes peered out of the locker, wary of any sudden sounds or movements.

The eyeballs did make a strangely ethereal noise as they flew through the air—a bit like the sound of air softly whistling while being sucked through a partially blocked straw, or water coming through a shower head. Oros watched them dart around the locker room, searching. Seeing so many peeping eyes in the girls' locker room was a bit—

Before Oros could properly finish the thought, they all gathered together and headed out the door, having cleared the room but not having checked the lockers. In fairness, there were a lot of lockers, and a lot of other places Oros could be, but it seemed odd that neither the big bad nor any of the minions had found the final note leading them to this specific locker.

Something was off, however, and after just a few seconds, Oros would realize what it was: that shower-head-like sound, it was still there. A shower was running. There was even a trail of clothes: a school uniform with tasteful but brazenly dress-code-violating personal touches that looked awfully familiar.

If Oros stopped to think about it, she could reason that this was a blatant set piece in Kuro's version of their game of "cat and mouse." The girl seemed to relish the feeling that she was the one in control of this situation. Such confidence suggested that she might be a higher-ranking member of the "club," and since having any other members on standby to act as backup would take away from her power fantasy, she was probably acting alone. Yes, this was a deduction she had the ability to make—but the most important piece of information in Oros’s mind right now was that there was a chance, however small, that Kuro might not be fully clothed.

She needed to move quickly.

Oros threw the door to the locker open and hopped onto her blood skates, which took her straight into the showers. All dawdling would do was give Kuro more opportunities to spot her magical girl form and work out what her abilities might be. A speedy, reckless approach might be what it took to catch Kuro off guard, and who knew, maybe she hadn’t transformed yet. As Oros drew closer she wondered what her magical girl form might be like. She probably wasn’t in a wedding dress, but maybe she’d be rocking some gothic lolita fashion, or maybe some shadow cultist robe decorated like it was covered in eyes, and her chest would have two giant eyes located in the center because they kind of look like-

A cat. There was a note attached to the shower door with a little cat face sticking its comically long tongue out.

It's bad manners to enter the pool without a shower.

The pool: that's where she would be waiting. That meant swimsuits and a picturesque outdoor scene under the pale moonlight! The doors were already ajar, and Oros could hear the girl humming a tune. She was definitely there, and definitely waiting. She was wearing a red and black one-piece and didn't appear to be transformed yet, but she was certainly using magic. She was hovering above the pool, trailing her toes across the surface of the water. Like the floating eyeballs, she drifted through the air slowly like a balloon, her movements just as wandering and chaotic. She made random patterns on the water's surface and even threw in a twirl or two, like an ice skater, except instead of flowing freely, her hair was wet and glistening and stuck to her skin and—

Oros had already showered earlier, she was going in!

The air cracked when Oros accelerated. There were a lot of questions she could have had, but with even less blood running through her head than usual, she couldn’t really think about any of them. Her blood was flooding to other extremities, including her nose, which propelled her across the water. Though this sanguine discharge wasn’t healthy. As her blood ran low, her blood skates turned into a blood raft. More and more tendrils laid themselves side by side until Suki was coasting through the water on a boat made of her blood. Its tendrils acted as oars that rowed through the water. As she neared Kuro, Oros spread her arms for an embrace, her eyes wide and her mouth hung open like a drooling idiot.

Whatever Kuro expected the new girl in town to do, it certainly wasn't that. She looked up from the pool and towards Oros, frozen in, well, some kind of emotion. It all happened so fast and she wasn't even sure what she was looking at. She tried to avoid her, but her flight was too slow. She transformed, which increased her speed, but it was already too late. Oros was on top of her, the two of them were on a boat, and her head was hanging over the edge of the water while Oros had buried hers in the baddie's chest upon impact. Kuro's eyes were so wide open that shock and rage looked the same. "Whuh—get off!!" she shouted, an instant before she noticed the girl's nosebleed. Maybe it was a poor choice of words.

Her transformed body wore a kimono with a disjointed black and white checker pattern and an indistinct red floral accent. It was a bit more red than it would've been otherwise on account of Oros. Her long hair was starting to spread out in the water, reminiscent of an image of Medusa, and her eyes were glowing a deep crimson. Every nerve in Oros's body was surely screaming at her to get up, but she didn't. "I said, get... hah... get..." she panted, the feeling of uncontrollable rage subsiding from her eyes as Oros's geas took effect. "H-Hey. Are you alright? Here," she said, pulling a handkerchief from her cleavage and wiping Oros's face with it. "Um, will it be fine? Do you need a nurse?"

"Nope!” Oros said, her chin nestled exactly where she wanted. The handkerchief smeared the blood over her upper lip, only to run into the boat below them. "I haven’t felt this good in a long time!” This was victory, Oros had told herself. From a cat chasing a mouse to a damsel beneath a vampire. As horrifying as Kuro had appeared on approach, her eyes were hard to look away from. Her head felt a little foggy, but she had just run half the length of the school. She’d allow herself to feel a little off. She pulled her knees up by Kuro’s hips and sat up, admiring what she had caught. She took her finger and traced down the center of her victim’s face. Her blood soaked finger left no streaks as it slid down the bridge of her baddie's nose and bounced along her lips. "Unless you’re a nurse? I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take care of me! You look great right now but I know you could rock a nurse outfit. If I can do it, you can do it too!” Oros drank up more of her victim's eyes. She leaned forward, hanging her head over Kuro’s face. "But for now, why don’t you check my temperature.” Normally Oros would close her eyes when she leaned in for a kiss, but not this time.

It had been Oros who approached, but it would be Kuro who pulled her in and held her close. "Yeah..." she breathed, eyes deep and full of a dark and inescapable yearning, like a pair of bright full moons dyed in red. "I wanted to take care of you. I wanted... to be..."

The cool onee-sama. That's who she was, Oros realized, as they locked lips. She was the older and more experienced magical girl, and she'd seen a girl who had obviously fallen to darkness recently, run away from home and come to Hibusa Town for safety. She'd seen a bit of herself when her covetous eyes first met Suki's, and she knew she had to have her. This meticulously planned evening had been an initiation—a baptism into the darkness, the True Sisterhood.

...

This feeling... I know what it is. I crave her warmth desperately, wish it to envelop me like a winter cloak fresh from the dryer, mere moments before I freeze to death—but, I can't understand it. No one can awaken this desire in me. I know it must be magic, and in the twinkling of an eye, when I let her go, this feeling will cease to exist, but I... don't want to.

Oros’s eyelids twitched when she heard the "baddie's" thoughts. Or at least, that was what she supposed they were. Nothing like this had happened when she kissed other girls, magical or otherwise. Perhaps like her geas, the girl's voice would vanish from her mind the moment she looked away, but that wasn’t something she was going to entertain.

She rolled off of Kuro and pulled her across her lap. Around her was moonlight reflecting off a calm pool in a liminal space, but there was nowhere else she’d rather look than in her girl’s eyes. Maybe she belonged to a dark magical girl team or had other masters prior to now, but in this moment, she was absolutely her girl, and perhaps Oros was hers as well. She hugged her tight and kissed her again. She sighed, like she had just downed the last swallow of her drink, but there was a lot of Kuro left to take in.

"We shouldn’t have waited so long to do this!” She stroked Kuro’s hair as she spoke. "You must have been watching me with those eyes for a while. You might be more perverted than I am.” Oros chuckled, but she was able to suppress the pig-like snort that normally would have followed Suki’s laughter.

Kuro's lips pursed slightly, like she was pouting. "Perv—no, I'm... Evil Eye, the Detention Club's Supervisor. I look after the younger girls. I also do most of the talent scouting and recruitment. ...Rei is lazy and makes me and Earthshaker do all the work. Earthshaker's the right hand girl, the cool and aloof type. I wanted to be like that too—a reliable older sister type, but somehow, I... miscalculated." Her lip quivered and she spoke softly. "You're—what? A blood witch? That's so cool. Why couldn't you just play along with my brilliant schemes and let me be the cool one? I had a ritual planned and everything. You're so mean."

Oros smiled. Despite the girl's words, she didn't seem that angry, though it was always hard for anyone under Oros's influence to be angry at her. Though it was also unusual for her victims to speak so frankly, especially after two kisses. Most girls would have fainted by now, and Kuro was less horny and fawning and more... frustrated and needy, like she craved attention. It seemed as if she really did have some kind of resistance to being charmed. Regardless, seeing Kuro like this did not remind her of a baddie, so she must have misjudged. Perhaps she was a hottie after all.

"Yup! I’m a blood witch. Oros the Joyful, or Oros if you can’t be bothered.” Her hand settled into the small of her back. "But you were cool! The way you looked in the camera and were all like ‘found you!’ before disappearing behind a veil of static was awesome!”

Oros the Joyful. Not Eros, but Oros, Kuro noted. She wondered how joyful she could really be, but she filed that thought away for now, because Oros said she was cool, and that what she did was awesome. A light blush graced her cheeks and a proud, catlike grin curled her lips just slightly, like she wanted to tell Oros that she could praise her some more.

Oros leaned in for another kiss, but added "If you had told me you needed a virgin sacrifice, I’d have been a lot more willing,” before closing the gap herself this time. She tipped Kuro all the way back, to the point where some may have wondered if Oros was going to drop her overboard, but she pulled her back upright before releasing her. The blood witch wobbled side to side as her cheeks flushed red. It was like she was drunk. "I’m actually an only child, so I wouldn’t mind having a sister. Do you prefer ‘Oneesan’ or ‘Aneki’?” She asked while lifting Kuro’s chin, lining her up for a fourth kiss. "Onee-sama. Anything else is no good," Kuro demanded childishly. "Say it just once, and I'll forgive you."

But Oros would not get the chance to say it that night. It had been happening slowly for a while now, but suddenly, their love boat lost structural integrity, and they both plunged into the pool. The water felt cold, if only because their bodies had felt so warm. The shock of the cold pulled Kuro out of whatever trance she'd been in, but Oros still had her eyes locked on Kuro's as she sank towards the bottom.

"Suki! Snap out of it!" Kuro dove down and grabbed Oros's face, forcing her eyes shut, but she'd lost all sense of time and urgency. Kuro wasn't a lifeguard, but that was going to change. She dragged Oros down to the bottom, using it as a means to spring off towards the edge. She pulled Oros with her and threw her out of the pool to safety. "Breathe, Suki!" she said, checking the girl's pulse.

She froze.

The girl was just fine. Of course she was. Magical girls didn't have to worry about drowning. She facepalmed. "Oi. Seriously, snap out of it. I'm not giving you mouth-to-mouth." She gently slapped Oros's cheek a few times. It took a little self-control to not slap her harder.

Oros blinked and opened her eyes again. Normally her blood magic could hold its shape well, but she was perhaps focusing a bit too hard on Kuro towards the end there. She still wasn’t sure what had come over her. Even while she had been “drowning” she didn’t have an ounce of self preservation in her body, though it was only now when she wasn’t looking into Kuro’s eyes that she started to realize it. Maybe she hadn’t “won” after all. While Oros tried to piece together what had happened, the shame of what had just happened was starting to seep into Kuro’s consciousness, as the mortified look on her face suggested.

"You... forget this ever happened, understand? Or I'll make sure you're expelled before your first day of school is over." She looked like she wanted to cry, but she didn't, at least not before she walked away. "That... desire is beneath me. I hate it. It makes me feel disgusting."

Oros sat up and looked in the girl’s direction as she stomped off. "B-but I’m not even enrolled here!” This was all very confusing to Oros, and she wasn’t about to let the person with all the answers walk away from her. She pushed herself to her feet and marched after her. Before she could turn the corner into the locker room, though, she heard voices, and immediately stood off to the side of the doorway. It sounded like Kuro was talking with someone.

"For someone so laser-focused on her ambitions, you sure have wandering eyes."

"Ugh, shut up. Your timing is atrocious, you know that?"

"The Mogall got all starry-eyed. I couldn't help but be curious who could bewitch the club's ice queen. Is she that interesting?"

"Why don't you go find out? You're too late to file a complaint, though. I already gave her my stamp of approval. She's your problem now, whether you like her or not."

"Any particular reason why I wouldn't?"

"Like I said, go find out. I'm done here."

"Evil Eye?"

"What."

"It's a good surprise. I think it's interesting. So, thanks."

"Whatever. It wasn't supposed to be a surprise for you."

"Sure. Thanks, anyway." Before Suki could think about backing away from the wall, Rei stepped out of the doorway and turned to look at her, like she had always known she was there. "Oros." She smiled. "You arrived in town yesterday."

So this one was well informed too. Though the more Suki thought about it, some magical girls would probably be aware of a new face showing up in a small town like this. Though more concerning was the aura this girl had. Kuro had one mystery, but Rei exuded nothing but confidence and power. Even untransformed, Suki felt like she was just barely a match for the person in front of her, if not her inferior. "Who are you?”

"You know who I am." A mostly true statement. This was the big boss. The boss that was a middle aged highschool student. Boss Baby, as Suki would come to eventually call her. She had heard about Schrade in her travels, and was now standing in front of the dark magical girl super boss. "But most call me Rei."

"Where did, uh, Evil Eye go?”

"She’s resting." Her smile grew a bit wider. "Bit of a handful, that one. Glad you were able to take her off my hands for a night."

"Heh!” Oros couldn’t help but let her chest swell. She wasn’t used to being appreciated, and if this was what awaited her in the cult she had been signed up for, she was all for it. "Do you think I could talk to her tomorrow?”

"You can meet everyone tomorrow. Right now I’d like you to meet Earthshaker. She’s going to be your future partner."

"P-partner!?” This only got better. Oros vaguely remembered Kuro dropping Earthshaker’s name, but couldn’t remember what was said about her.

"We work in small teams. She would be a good fit for someone new to Hibusa town. She knows a lot, and would be willing to show you the ropes." She waved her hand. "Earthshaker’s waiting for us by the ‘VIP’ table."

"Alright! Lead the way!”

"Oros?"

"Yes?”

"That girl says some interesting things, but most of the time, there's no deeper meaning behind it besides having fun, so don’t spend too much time thinking seriously about it. If you're ever in trouble, though, you can rely on her. She’s not a thoughtless person."

"Alright…” During the long walk back, Oros started to feel a little nervous. Did they know she extinguished her cigarette directly on their table?

---

During her reminiscing, she managed to type a few paragraphs of her report while occasionally looking at Kiyo. She still wasn't quite sure where she and Kiyo stood, after all this time had passed. Did she like Suki, or did she think she was gross? Was an "interesting person" just someone who could be a useful tool for the Detention Club, or was there really a hidden yearning for a feeling of sisterhood with the Detention Club girls?

Kiyo placed her open book down, looking a little annoyed. "Suki, you're staring."

"I know.”

"Do you need something?"

Suki blinked a few times. "Nah I was just… thinking… about things.” She started to turn her head away, but was still looking at Kiyo. "But I think I got it, Onee-sama.” She turned back to the monitor and continued typing.

"You—!" Kiyo turned her head away, the same way she did when Suki had complimented her hair. "I told you to forget about it."

After hitting a few more keystrokes, Suki looked over her shoulder. "Forget about what?” After blinking innocently, she raised a finger to the corner of her lip. "I can’t remember what I used to call you. There was always Eyeball, but…” She hummed as a word floated around her mind, just out of reach. "Was it sister? It must have been sister.” She resumed typing.

Kiyo sighed, composed herself, and stood up. Slowly, she made her way across the room to Suki. "If it's between that and Eyeball, I'd rather you call me Aneki. Don't call me 'Onee-sama' in front of the others. It's cringe." She placed her hand on Suki, petting her head like a proper older sister. "As promised, though, I'll forgive you. You are absolved of your sins, Sister." She had that catlike grin again. "But don't kiss the Supervisor again. That's a pink slip," she said, deadpan.

Suki hummed as the pats continued. Of course, Suki would absolutely still call her Eyeball. It would be weird to call her the same thing in and out of her magical girl form. Rainbow worked for Tsubomi because of her dull personality, but “Eyeball” didn’t have anything to do with Kiyo. Nor did Evil Eye seem particularly sisterly, though perhaps now was not the time to bring it up. She also wasn’t going to ask what a pink slip was. It sounded like a tag on one of those websites Suki liked to browse late at night, but given Kiyo’s intense expression that probably wasn’t what she was referring to. "Well, if you don’t look at me with those eyes, I’ll try to contain myself, heh!”

Kiyo's smile widened. "I'll make no such promise. Restrain yourself, or you'll get pulled into the abyss with me," she replied enigmatically, returning her attention to her books. Without looking back, Suki raised her eyebrows before finishing up her report. Last time they fell into the abyss together, Kiyo had pulled her out. Was it too much to expect her to do so again?

The Hourglass Order

That's Amore

---

---

It was Ardanes, now: well into Rezain. The days were a little bit shorter and the nights a little bit cooler. In truth, it was a welcome reprieve from Dorrad's searing heat. They sat on the balcony of a handsome townhome in Cantativa, away from the hustle of Civitalunga or Avincia, with one platter of bruschetta and another of fritto misto. There was a bottle of red wine on the table and a great full Ciero in the sky.

Ciro Volta sat across from the woman he would marry, trying to eat like a gentleman. He had business to discuss, but food was to be enjoyed first. There was no need to sour the taste of it. "I could tell you something like, 'that's my mother's recipe'," he chuckled, "but I think neither of us would be afraid of the truth. It comes from the kitchen of a poor woman in Farrodiné who was well compensated and is a bit less poor now." He smiled appreciatively as he chewed.

Xiuyang sat across from her lover, clothed in her finest silks. The first time they'd spoken, she had worn a mask. Then, she'd borrowed her sister's face, and thought he wouldn't notice. Then, she'd decided to learn how to apply makeup, almost from scratch. Now, there were just a few precise and gentle touches. Slowly, over time, her face had become more visible, her smile easier and more confident, more genuine.

It had also made her face easier to read. A smile could mean many things, and her smiles were becoming easier to tell apart—a product of their time spent together as much as it was the girl's heart mending. The smile Ciro saw now was a happy and contented one. She was admiring him as much as she was admiring the food. It was no secret that she loved his generosity and good taste.

"My compliments to our chef. I'll savor this moment to her success. It looks delightful." She had her chopsticks ready—was it poor manners to eat Revidian food with chopsticks? Surely Ciro wouldn't mind. She seemed to be in a similar conundrum to her beloved: how to eat this bruschetta like a proper lady. The chef may have been poor, but the ingredients were quality and not used sparingly. Her attempt at a ladylike nibble ended with a small dab of tomato sauce on her nose, to which she snickered before wiping it off and taking a more adventurous second bite. All was well. She would enjoy the food for several minutes before the wine would even cross her mind. She hardly drank these days.

Ciro tried to bend the bruschetta slightly, to make it concave. He'd have ended up feeding the table and his lap had he not caught the pieces with kinetic magic. He made a makeshift heart shape out of them in the air. "Did you realize there would be this much cheese when you sat down tonight?" he asked.

Xiuyang rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Wouldn't have it any other way, Big Cheese," she replied, responding to one double-meaning phrase with another.

"And this is why I love you," Ciro remarked, holding out the bottle of wine and arching an eyebrow questioningly. He shook his head as he poured. "Many other reasons, too, of course." Two full moons loomed large in the sky. The waters of the Green Canal shimmered under their light. "But you are the partner I need: the one who I don't have to act seriously around, the one I don't need to explain my jokes to."

His face turned pensive, then, and perhaps a bit troubled. "I know the nature of my family, and some of that of yours." He regarded the deep red liquid in his glass before his eyes snapped upwards, finding hers. "Promise me that we will never let them use us or turn us against each other." He fairly bled anxiety into the night.

Xiuyang nodded at the offer of wine, taking up her glass and holding it out for Ciro to fill. A light blush formed on her cheeks, another perk of the lighter use of makeup. The feeling of ease and safety was mutual. She was glad to hear of it.

The night moved forward as smoothly as the boats in the canal, but something was about to rock their boat. Dark clouds were brewing, and Xiuyang moved to shoo them away with all the authority of a Zeno welcoming a new year of students to the school. Nothing and no one would intrude on this moment.

"Never," she agreed, soberly and with a kind of held-back intensity. "I swear it. ...It's not my sister, is it?" she suggested preemptively. Desi's husband had chosen her over Maria or Xiuyang, and Maria's jealousy would flare up from time to time. Her charms had not worked on him, and they'd likely not worked on Ciro either, but she had to be sure.

Ciro shrugged almost... evasively, and glanced out over the canals. "Well, I get a bad read from her: bitterness." He shook his head. "Grasping." He pursed his lips. "A desire to move up." He tapped the table with a finger. "My uncle was the same way, and it cost me my father. Oldest tale in the world."

The food was all-but finished. He'd timed it that way. Telling her more about himself would build trust with Xiuyang, and that was something that he needed. In truth, the family's mercantile ventures were not as profitable as they had once been. Trade was moving, increasingly, to the oceans instead of the Ensollian and Revidia hadn't a ghost of a route there. Banking was the future. The Solaris could keep the ships.

And yet... he found that he did not see them as enemies. He did not want to ruin them, not in any way, unless they acted first. There was no such thing as a wealthy merchant in Revidia who had not stabbed backs or cut throats, figuratively and, in an indirect sense, literally. Ciro was just shy of his eighteenth birthday and still not fully in control of the Volta Company, but he had ruined people. He'd had men killed. He'd been utterly ruthless. "Amore mio," he said softly, as a sonic bubble took shape around the pair, "he didn't work alone. There is another who must pay Ecceran's price." He glanced down at the blood red wine in his glass and then back up at Xiuyang, mysteriously, searchingly, darkly.

Xiuyang was about to crack a joke about how Ciro had just described most noblewomen when he'd suddenly dropped the bombshell. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine..." The words felt hollow in her mouth as she gazed into her wine. In many horrible nightmares, she had seen Juulet come for her family. She had seen the church come for her family, led by any one of the students who knew that she was a Facemimic and claimed to be her friend. But, to be betrayed by her own blood? It was unthinkable. Even Maria, for all her bluster, would never dare to pull the trigger, because—

Xiuyang felt the familiar presence of a sonic bubble as Ciro addressed her so fondly, so softly. She wanted nothing more than to move to his side, but the weight of his words kept her in her seat, engaged in the careful dance of discussing matters of great import while appearing to have only a casual conversation. The conflict played out on her face as her eyes grew in their intensity and her appetite for wine along with them.

After a longer drink, she placed her wine glass down, but not for a refill. She tented her fingers. "We Solari have an understanding with one another. We wear many faces, and we each have our own hopes and dreams, but we are all one 'Solari.' He who makes an enemy of one, makes an enemy of all." Her eyes flicked to meet Ciro's, shimmering like the reflection of the moons in the canal below. "Who broke your heart, amore mio?"

Ciro listened and he wasn't certain, to be truthful, though he did not entirely let this show. "We Volta are, in theory, much the same... or at least, we were."

He drank no more, for he was master of himself. "It is l'Anguilla himself, though he is not aware that I know, so far as I can tell." He picked at his last bit of food idly - poor manners, to be certain, but he could relax that way in front of Xiuyang. "And now he comes to me," the merchant prince continued, "with a task that I know is a trap, but which I cannot completely refuse, lest I lay bare my suspicions and allow him to wonder if I know still more." He twisted to reach into his satchel, left beside his chair under the moonlight, but he paused. "I will admit, it is an intriguing thing, and I welcome your insight on it."

Xiuyang's face blanched. Her blood turned cold. "...The Doge himself..?" She looked upon Ciro with eyes that didn't want to believe what her ears were hearing. "How could this happen..? Should we..?" Her voice trailed off as she at once considered and dismissed every option that came to mind. Tell her father? No. He had told her quite young never to tangle with the Eel, but when asked by innocent young eyes if the Doge was a "bad man," he had replied only that people were more complicated than simply being good or bad.

Should they flee Revidia? No. The keys to the future they were building together were here, and the future of all Constantia stood to gain from their success. There was too much on the line to let one man stand in the way, even if that man was the Doge himself.

Kill the Doge? It seemed the height of madness. The kind of chaos that would result... but Ciro knew this. He knew, and setting aside whether or not they should, the fact of the matter was that Xiuyang could not, even if she tried. He was not asking her to commit treason, any more than Seviin had been suggesting that she kill Juulet. Ciro was simply stating facts, for the time being, and she trusted his judgment.

She did not cast judgment on him for killing his uncle, for the penalty of betraying one's own blood could only be death. So it was for the Solari, and so she imagined it must be so for the Volta.

"What is the nature of this task? This trap of his?" she asked, holding back the true heat of her emotions, but not the presence of them. "If he plots ill against you, I will bring those plans to ruin. Every fiber of my being, every tool at my disposal. I'll hold nothing back. Please, let me help you," she pleaded, reaching across the table for his hand. She knew that Ciro had been bearing his burdens alone while she had been making him to share hers. It was unfair, and she was making an effort to change it, but he had to let her in first.

Ciro lifted his glass of wine to his lips and drank. One could not see the lower half of his face. After a moment, however, he placed it back on the table, settled, and took Xiuyang's hand. He breathed deeply, twisting to pull a sealed envelope from his bag, though the seal was broken. "It says little," he remarked, extricating a folded letter from it, "though I know more, and he knows more than me, still. He held it out for her to see and opened it, letting her read and wonder before any commentary.

Dear Honourable Prospect,

Has your life taken a turn? Do you seek thrills you have long since desensitized yourself to? Or perhaps you wish to start anew?

Whatever your creed may be, one of Sipenta's mythical and lost marvels beckons the ambitious, curious and desperate alike. Deep in the frigid tundras lies the oldest gem of this world.

An expedition like none other in history to unearth a legend that can make dreams into tangible reality. A chance for a legacy. A chance for a new beginning. A new era.

The Abyssal Forge awaits you.
Signature: __x

Please send this letter through your local post office.

Xiuyang took the letter and inspected it. Anxiety gave way to confusion, which was always conveyed through her most amusing faces. "He... wants you to sign a letter and put it in the post," she assessed, deadpan, with a tone that suggested an anti-climax. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can something this shady-looking really be an important task from the Doge? This looks like bait for the desperate. Is he insulting you?" she asked, irritation evident on the curl of her lips. "A chance for a legacy, a new beginning." There was a time such words would have tempted her to action, but now, she saw them in a new light: manipulative.

But slowly, the clever girl's cogs began to turn, and after a moment, she gave her true assessment. "No, I get it. He wants to send you on some fool's errand so you'll be out of his hair. It means he is about to make a move you disapprove of, right?"

It wasn't quite right, but it wasn't quite wrong, either.

"But we have tricks he doesn't know about." When her eyes met Ciro's again, it was his own eyes that he saw looking back at him from within Xiuyang's face. It was only for a moment, but it was a little uncanny. "As I said, we are all one 'Solari.' If he requires 'you' to go away for a while, I can become 'you.' Someday, you might be able to become 'me' as well. Until then... while they aren't exactly pocket sized, they are 'portable.' The mirrors, Ciro. Being in two places at once isn't a dream for you, it's a reality!" Her hushed whispers got a little excited.

"I think he wants to have his cake and eat it, too," Ciro offered, leaning in conspiratorially and mouthing a small kiss. "At least, that's my impression." He smirked and leaned back again, sipping the last bit of his wine.

"There is something to the Abyssal Forge beyond the ability to create things: something strategic for him both personally and in the interest of Revidia." He pursed his lips. "I have done some digging and I think that the Tarlonese are connected to this. Minister Padovan's office has been unusually busy, but not Materazzi's or Barone's. Tartarelli has been salivating over the coming war for months, now, and Zappa is inscrutable as always. I think there is an effort to pull them over to our side, perhaps as counter to what the Torragonese have been up to lately with Virang."

He shrugged. "My take is that they need something there and can't get it, or need backup, and we stand to gain. If matters go well, then it is a clandestine operation but, if they go south, l'Anguilla will have cause to disavow whoever was involved." He sniffed. "It's me he's out for. We've been playing this shadow game for some time." Ciro examined the letter idly. "I could not live with myself if you stepped in and something happened."

"But then, what will you do? It's the same for me, you know. I can't imagine a future without you in it. ...No pressure." She squeezed his hand lightly, giving him a warm smile. Then, she narrowed her eyes in thought. "So, you're saying this isn't just some wild goose chase, but a real lead. You're also saying it might be dangerous, but here you are, asking for my opinion on our best course of action. If you had someone more capable than me that you could ask, I think you would have—and if I had someone like that, you'd have skipped the middle man. ...Well, it's me, so maybe you wouldn't." She weaved her fingers with Ciro's, playing with them a little.

"I trust you, Ciro, and I trust your judgment. I'd be in a lot of trouble if I didn't, since I'm something of an advisor of yours," she japed. "If you would rather I not go, then let me know how I can help, and what needs to be done while you're gone—but, I am willing to go on a little adventure. Considering everything that's happened, with the doppelganger of me that appeared in Qari'muuna and attacked Ingrid, and the incident in Palapar... maybe it'd be good for me to escape the public eye for a while, again, rather than become a distraction from the good you're trying to do." She sighed, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on the thought like she would've done before.

"Like I said, you can sign it and send me. I won't get cold feet. Or if you think it's too risky, or if there's some benefit to having the Doge know you sent me, I'll sign my name and go as myself. Do we know if anyone else will be there? Anyone we trust?" she asked curiously.

Ciro listened as she spoke, his attention - for all intents and purposes - undivided. "I believe we should test him, just slightly," he concluded. "If you would like to lose some heat, you should at least go as yourself." He tapped the tabletop rhythmically, pondering. "Change one element he anticipated and thought he would control." His eyes flicked from his tapping finger to Xiuyang. "See how he reacts."

Regardless of his discomfort, he flicked her the letter, eyes large and deep and settled upon her. "I love you, Salomé Solari." In the background, the crickets chirped and a fresh breeze blew up the hill from the ocean. "I will have someone ready - someone useful - to switch with you if you are in danger."

Xiuyang nodded in understanding. Ciro knew the Doge, and this was his move to play. With Xiuyang signing her name, she could be satisfied that they were keeping another of their cards hidden, as well. She had reached for her quill and was just about to sign the letter when Ciro reaffirmed his love for her. Her hand hesitated for what could've only been a fraction of a second before the deed was done.

The delivery was so serious, it could have been a final farewell, and if it were anyone else, she would have had second thoughts—but, she'd made a habit of putting her faith in this man, and watching as things worked out for the better. Now, while she was doing it again, he was also doing the same with her, and the weight of the moment was not lost on Xiuyang. She smiled warmly as he reassured her that she would have an out if things went south.

"And I love you, Ciro Volta. More than you could ever know."

---

---

"When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie... that's amore~♪"

"When the world seems to shine, like you've had too much wine... that's amore~♪"

Xiuyang sang softly to herself as she walked the dirt roads of some small town in Miatto, appearing to have no particular destination in mind. She had memorized the map several days ago, after all, and walked this road several times before. She had observed the shed in question and peered inside with the Gift, as she would do this time.

There was a sudden chill, and the inexplicable but all-too-familiar sensation of being watched. Was there a rustling of more than just the wind?

"When it's all on the line, but you're still feelin' fine~♪" she improvised, drawing a pistol, a smile forming as she brought the muzzle to her lips, like a finger shushing a partner in crime who was absent.

"What's that?" she spoke, rather than sang the line, as one would do to build drama in a musical.

She ducked around a corner, peering into an alley, her gun pointed at a barrel. A rat scurried. A homeless man coughed.

"Don't you see? Why couldn't it be?" she said as she looked around, to quell her nerves.

All was still in the night. Xiuyang tapped the barrel of her gun against her chin contemplatively, as though it were her finger, resting just outside the trigger guard.

"Yup! That's amore~♥" She smiled brightly.

She would continue on until she reached the rendezvous point, at which point the weight of the risk she was taking would hit her stomach like a ton of bricks. You promised you wouldn't get cold feet, she softly scolded herself. If your word means nothing even when given to Ciro, then... The rest didn't need to be said.

She bumped the door of the shed open with her shoulder. The first two times she had opened it, it creaked horribly. Last time she was here, she had ensured it would not do so again. She relied on her beanie to show her the truth, looking for any dark figures lying in wait. She saw nothing, however. Instead, she saw the static before she began to feel it crawl on her body. She tried to draw, but instead felt her knees grow weak as she lost her balance. It was in her mind, now, obscuring her vision along with the fog creeping inside the shed. It drowned out the all-consuming cacophony of the frogs nearby.

What... is this?! Is this magic? Is it an episode? I can't see... myself. Can't hear... Can't ...think...

"Ciro..." she mumbled as her eyes glazed over. "a... mo... r- re..." Her outstretched hand gave up its final twitch.

The Hourglass Order

Another "Raffaella"

---

---

Mission accomplished, Zarina’s friend was thwarted and the Imam was alive. A depressing celebration of cheap red wine in one of the commandeered Virangish homes was her go-to for an evening of unwinding. Or maybe this was merely a ritual to prepare for the chat with Raffaella. Regardless of intent, two glasses of wine were prepared with the tall teen sagging into her wooden seat and her eyes focused on a small stack of papers. Copies of reports, it seemed, from the official stamps.

“Hey.” she greeted her fellow compatriot with mellowed, half-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. “How’s the duty been for you so far?” she inquired, the mundane nature of the question veiling the increased concern she had for a colleague she had once seen as the little sister of the team.

"...Evening, Zazz," came the reply, lacking the verbosity and grace of her earlier performance. The high pitch wasn't there, either, but it was a bit different from her usual pouting, too. The only explanation seemed to be that something didn't go well, and Zarina wouldn't have to wait long to find out what.

Raffie placed her hands on the armrests and hopped up into her chair. She eyed the wine, seeming to consider it. She was an "adult" now, whatever that was supposed to mean, so no one could hold it against her if she indulged a little, right? She took the glass by the stem and rocked it back and forth, ponderously.

"...Osman was right, Zazzy. That's just the plain truth of it," she sighed.

Indulged in a sip of her vintage as she crossed her arms under her chest and assessed the girl-turned-woman from neck to shoe. Her gestures were precise, the fruit of experience with her betters - very Afravalesque, she called it. It became very clear to Zarina that she wasn't talking to a child anymore. “He has said many things.” but only a couple could lead to such gloom. The older of the two swallowed her worries with another gulp of her drink. “What's been troubling you?”

At that, Raffie made her signature pouting face. Well, perhaps it was annoyance with Zarina playing coy, or perhaps she was trying to lighten the mood just a little. She certainly seemed to have the self-awareness to know that it looked a little silly, but that also meant she knew how to use it to lower someone's guard. "What do you think?" she sulked.

The temptation of the wine seemed to get the better of her, but she partook of it slowly and with class. "I've had another dream, Zazzy. Our plan isn't working. Or well, it's not going to work. If we don't change course—and I mean, like, 'hard to port!' changed then we're going to lose Palapar."

Zarina inhaled deeply and raised her chin in acknowledgement of the question and opted to indulge in her vintage before confessing something. Calm and collected, mellowed by the drink no doubt. “Our King spoke to me and Ren. I'm unsure if you've been made aware of the subject matter.”

This demeanor of her's did not survive Raffaella's second addition to the conversation. A look of concern reigned on Zarinas expression, the same one she had back at the royal garden. “A dream.” she repeated. “What dream?” she was already mentally berating herself for entertaining the delusions that had made her friend almost unrecognizable.

She wasn't done. To avoid falling in the trap of indulging too much in notions beyond herself, she presented her own concern. “What do you make of Ren?”

Raffaella considered. She sipped her wine. She considered some more, regarding Zarina with eyes that could have been wary, tired, or both. What should she say—that an international web of corrupt politicians and career criminals were plotting the downfall of Virang? No. She needed to start smaller if she wanted to gain her friend's trust back. She exhaled deeply.

"Ambitious to a fault. Not a shred of virtue. 'Might makes right.' Useful in a pinch," she diagnosed rather brutally. "I thought we could use him to break the rebels' will to go on fighting and cut the bloodshed short. It's not going to work. More massacres will happen, sparking more outrage. Soon, they'll have better weapons and become even bolder."

Zarina sighed in relief. Common ground, at least there was something to work with other than "dreams". “Your opinion is that he isn't the right tool for the job, then.” a crude summary to get to her point. “I agree. And was far too keen on following our leader's plan. Not a shred of a second thought.” stressful memories induced a desire for safety - routine. She filled her glass once more and non-verbally offered to do the same for Raffie.

“I'm not sure what to do about all of this, but it seems you've more insight than me on some things here.” an expectant look was shot Raffaella's way after a hearty gulp of the drink. Far less chic than her younger colleague. “Tell me what's been running in your mind.”

"Imam Tikli doesn't deserve to die," she observed plainly. So, it would seem she had been privately briefed on that. "He remains a faithful and active steward. He is not tired because he is old, he is tired because he believes politics interfere with his work. So, some powerful people have decided he has outlived his usefulness, I suppose, but that is for the gods to decide."

She took another sip of her wine. "I can tell you my honest opinion, because you know I'm not strong enough to stand in the way of whatever you want to do, right? So if you really want the truth, yes, I had a dream about outside forces interfering in Palapar. But the 'wise and experienced' care nothing for divine inspiration when it contradicts the set of preexisting notions they call an 'education,' so someone with actual muscle on the field needs to go prove it if we want a change of plans. I've nothing against the Sultan, but even I was hesitant to admit that he was right. Others will need more convincing."

Zarina took a deep breath. A relief, but also an exasperation. “He doesn't deserve to die, but some believe he should. If you know what I do, then do you think his death would be a boon to our cause?” she didn't drink this time, she needed to focus. Focus on every gesture made by this person she hardly knew, in truth.

“Dream or not,” she did end up drinking again, but only to mimic her counterpart without even thinking of the drink. “our good friend Tku has proven that. The question is: What do you propose? Do we go with the Sultan's plan? Do we even want to?” question after question, as if she never even knew this person from the start. Then again, this Raffaella was not the Raffie she had shared victories and hardships with.

"Well... To begin with, Osman really doesn't want him to die in his heart of hearts, does he? It was just a pretense for the next stage of the plan, I thought. So, if it's not going to work anyway... nothing good can come of it, I think." She certainly appeared to be genuinely considering Zarina's query, if only to be respectful of her perspective, though her own was biased. Still, that childlike expression was an infuriating poker face, too.

"I don't know. I really don't know. All I can do is continue to fulfil the role I've been given. I do have my security detail. If I stay close to the Imam, that can buy us some time. I could try talking Ren down, but honestly, I think he's just using me. He doesn't believe in my dreams, either."

She gave Zarina a meaningful look as she said that last word. "If you want to go through with this, Zazzy, I won't use my dreams as an excuse not to give it my all. But, I've given you my honest belief. I think we will lose Palapar. All we can do is minimize our losses. Or... we could strategize our losses." Her eyes flicked away towards her wine, evasively.

This wasn't an easy position to be in. Zarina's only real ally happened to be a girl who determined her decisions and outcomes of events through dreams. The world had never felt lonelier for the young dragon. “I will not act with the notion of inevitable loss, Raffie.” she stated firmly, her attention removed from the glass of wine that tempted her more and more to zone out everything in this very moment. “We'll get ahead of whatever machinations are at play. We may take losses, but I will fight for Palapar. We need everything we have to survive the coming storm, as a country.”

The oldest of the two ran her fingers through her hair to tight them into an improvised bun. She had grown tired of it getting in the way of her eyes. It made her look more exhausted - no, more defeated than she really was. “I'm glad you haven't fallen for the madness the brass has fallen into - that this is over because they've caught a few rebels.” she forced a smile, one that radiated something that was genuine. Was it entirely? Likely not, but there was a serenity gained from at least being heard. “It's nice to have a friend.”

Zarina cleared her throat and continued. “There's a good chance the ball is something they'll gun for. And likely not with improvised tactics. If what we believe is true, we may be seeing an attack backed by our enemies targeting the pillars of leadership. I'd like to stop that, but I cannot do this alone. And I sense I'm not going to have many fans when I fearmonger.”

Raffaella took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay, Zazzy. Okay." She nodded sadly, appearing every bit the young girl in need of guidance that Zarina had remembered from the Trials. If there was a positive interpretation to be made of the girl's delusion, perhaps she had a reliable gut feeling that something was wrong, and the dreams were just a coping mechanism to give herself more confidence.

"I'll support you, Zazzy, because you're my friend. A real friend. Your eyes tell me so." She nodded to herself and smiled. "I'll go to the ball. Let me take the heat for being scared. You can be the brave heroine who investigates a young lady's unfounded fears and figures it all out in the end."

It was an herculean task to not see the person before Zarina as the same child she had looked after during the trials. The mannerisms were there, but the intent behind her words had actual weight. It was uncanny, like something else was piloting this individual. Still, Zazzy was neither clever enough nor callous enough to doubt it was more than eccentricities and the natural result of 'growing up'. “I appreciate your support. It means ... A lot. Especially when I know I won't be miss popular for much longer when this is all over.” big exhale, like Raffie's. “However, are you sure your place should be in the ball? If our fears are accurate, it will be a mess. A dangerous one.”

Zarina scoot closed, dragging her chair in a clumsy and almost infantile manner to close the gap between herself and Raffaella. An empathetic if a tad awkward hand reached out to touch the other's shoulder. “The last thing I want is one of my only friends on this island to get hurt. Do you reckon the Imam may be in danger as well?”

Any time Zarina touched Raffie, it was striking just how small she was. The fluff and frills almost seemed to take up more space than she did. "...Yes. But he... I, um..." She seemed to consider her words. "He is prepared to die. He accepts it. I don't want it, but... so long as I draw breath, I minister to the living, not the dead. If you need me there, I'll go. I don't want the Imam to die, but if protecting him only slows you down and delays the inevitable... am I wrong? If this is the path you've chosen, I'll sincerely do my best. You'll be there, right? So I won't be scared, then. ...No pressure. I mean, I'll be 'scared,' for our purposes, but not really."

Raffaella coaxed a smile from Zarina that grew in size the more she talked. There was familiarity, now that all the prose and metaphors were done with. Was this truly Raffie? She would not know, but it worked in softening the silver dragon. “How about you choose where you'll do best?” emotion trumped over strategy and reason, one of Zarina's many flaws. Like an orange cat far too easily brought to showing its underbelly. “I'll be at the ball. I must be. It's where our vital decision makers will be. If you feel better suited to be with me there, so be it. If you think your actions can make a difference toward the Imam's situation, then you have my blessing.”

A deep inhale, and then an exhale. Careful breathing seemed to be a theme here. Zarina spoke again. “I would rather not sacrifice a good man for our victory, no matter how slim or impossible it might be. If your intuition is true, his death would be meaningless anyway.”

Raffie shook her head sadly. "I can only get in the way of those who would do him harm. I cannot change their minds." Her eyes widened, as if she'd only just thought of something. "They may just as quickly come after me. That he is in less danger with me there might just be a tempting fantasy, beckoning me away from what I need to do. Your resolve is real. I trust it more."

She reached up and took Zarina's hand. "But if I must confess, we don't seem to be communicating very well here. We seem to be talking in circles, and I can't make sense of it. Truly we must protect our 'decision makers' if we can't decide something like this on our own. Unless there's something troubling you that you're not telling me about, and that's the real reason why you don't want me at the ball." She peered up at Zarina curiously. The demeanor changed, but the same cogs were turning. Perhaps Raffie really was a child at heart, and the students of Ersand'Enise, far away from the stuffy politics of Virang, had been privileged to see it. The mistake they had made was in taking her for a fool. "Why won't you be 'miss popular' anymore?"

Zarina squeezed the much smaller hand. Her lips pursed like she was holding something back. She addressed the last question first. “Our friends are watching all of this very closely. My efforts to win this will not only earn some the scorn of those with lofty ideals, but also our very chain of command is about to hear it from me. This conflict is drawing a hard line in the sand and I fear I'll be standing opposite to many of those I hold dear. It hurts, you know?” she let out a long nasal sigh before seizing the entire bottle with her idle hand and crudely drank from it.

“Which is why, as I step in a world where my circle of friends may dwindle, I could not take losing more of them.” the squeeze strengthened even more, not quite enough to be uncomfortable. “If our enemies go in hard during that ball, I won't be able to keep our priorities safe if they were to put YOU in danger too. My own priorities will be predictably in your favor.”

Raffie's eyes drifted from Zarina's face to the bottle in her hands. "I see. So I'd be in the way. That stings a little. But, I do get it. I'm not strong like you are, Zazz. But, can't you share this burden with me even a little? I'm already not very popular. I don't have any friends besides you and Ayla."

Raffaella was right, Zarina saw a weaker addition as a liability. But this was a concern born of only emotion, in truth she would need the numbers. “I remember how easily scared you were during that last trial. When Desmond met countless dreadful fates. Ipte forsake him that day.” she let out a half-hearted chuckle. Those weren't the best memories, even if they were good times. “I guess I still see you as the junior of the team.” she went to take another sip but abstained just as her lips were about to meet the bottle. “We made a pretty good team, didn't we?” she flashed a complicit grin. “Okay. Think you you can have my back?”

Raffie pursed her lips, trying not to laugh. "Oh, yeah! Des'm was nice to me too, but I haven't seen him in a while," she mused. "Of course we made a good team. We were the best team. Like, objectively. It was a whole thing," she said, as if declining to tell a long story to someone who wasn't there. Then she, also, smiled complicitly.

She used her free hand to fish for her enchanted rosary. A sound like a static discharge sounded off as she grabbed it, and a strange warmth flowed through Raffie's hand and into Zarina's. "Of course I'll have your back, Zazzy, if you'll have me."

Good feelings all around, and Zarina was only tipsy too. Inebriated just enough to miss that unusual sound but aware enough to feel the warmth. Her features mellowed and the bottle was put back on the table - enough for one night. “Then it's settled, we're jumping into hell, hand-in-hand.”

Zarina leaned back and sagged into her seat. “We're going to win. We were supposed to fail our revolution, but we won. We'll win this too.” her eyes had drifted away to nothing in particular, like she wasn't talking to anyone specific. “There're spare bedrooms in here. I'd lie if I said a familiar presence wouldn't leave me less paranoid at night.”

"I hope so, Zazzy." Even Raffie couldn't help but feel a little encouraged by Zarina's bold statement about the revolution, something which seemed so distant now. It certainly wasn't impossible that the outcome of a prophetic dream could be changed, but the more people were affected by it, the greater the change of course needed to avert it. Her mother's diary spoke of such possibilities. Would warning Zarina really change much, though?

It didn't change her endgame, she decided. She didn't need to be strong enough to change the outcome, she just needed to be right. If they succeeded, it needed to be because Zarina had believed in her dream warning them in advance. If they failed, she just needed to survive and minimize Virang's losses, and ensure that the losses served her and her allies rather than the enemy within.

Losing Zarina wasn't something she could afford. At least, that was what she believed. Was it based in emotion, or tactics? She'd made an agreement with herself to set the thought aside for now. Zarina didn't believe in her dreams, but at least she wouldn't stand in the way of her dreams, nor did she gaze upon her with eyes of scorn like so many others.

"How could I say no to that face?" Raffie said, mirroring something Zarina had also probably said to her before. "You know, I think I've also spooked myself a little with all this talk of assassins. The idea of sleeping alone really isn't appealing to me, either."

Nocturnal Memoirs: An Urban-Fantasy Mafia Epic (Cops and Robbers)

@Emeth Tossing you a random ping because I realized you're still alive and this might be your vibe. NP if it ain't.

@ERode

Hey dude! Long time no see.

It totally is, but I've got a recurring problem of stretching myself too thin and burning out. I can't commit right now.

The Hourglass Order

An Imperfect Compass Called the Heart

---

---

Xiuyang approached the antique shop with tepid steps. In truth, she didn't expect anything to come of this lead, but the importance of her mission compelled her to search every possibility thoroughly. She entered quietly, walking aimlessly and with directionless eyes, perusing the store. Rather than locating an object of interest, her intention was to speak to the owner. It didn't take long for her fellow Rettanese to take the bait.

"Ahh, young Miss Solari. I'm pleased to see you take an interest in my humble shop." His beard moved, indicating a smile.

"Good day to you. Do you have this brand?" She showed the man a drawing of the old diary. "It seems to have received a resurgence of popularity lately. Any idea why that might be?" she asked.

"Mm." The old man furrowed his brow. "So I've noticed. I do have one of those, yes. It shows its age wonderfully, but its pages are yet blank. That commands a high price... but somehow, I wager the answer to your question is of more value to you."

Xiuyang hadn't even feigned a smile, but if she had, it would be gone. She narrowed her eyes. Her Torragonese contact had told her to expect the man to be cagey like this. "...How much?" she asked wearily.

"Give me a good price for it, and I'll tell you what I know," the shrewd businessman replied, refusing to give a figure.

Xiuyang's eye twitched. In a situation this dire, her cold Solari blood would dictate a stubborn old goat like this be kidnapped and interrogated in some dank basement, but under the watchful eyes of the Zenos? Impossible. Like an automaton, she lifted up her sack of coin and dropped it wholesale on the counter.

Rather than count the coins, the owner admired each one individually. "Hoho. These are quite old indeed. So much history." He pocketed them with care. "A young couple walked in here some time ago, looking to acquire this old diary." He took it out from behind the counter with gloved hands. "The girl seemed keen on stealing it, but wasn't too clever about it. Of course I was furious, but somehow, I felt compelled to listen to her story. She told me that her mother who had passed away recently had a diary like this one which had gone missing. Now, I don't give much heed to tall tales spun by thieves, but she seemed genuinely distraught."

"What else can you tell me about her? What did she look like?" Xiuyang replied.

"Her face was white as the driven snow and strikingly doll-like. In fact, she was nearly small enough to be one of those life-sized dolls. Her hair and eyes had an otherworldly sheen, dyed pink with arcane magicks."

Raffaella, Xiuyang realized immediately. Her mother did indeed die recently. Suddenly, she remembered the notice put out for the missing diary. Just as suddenly, she remembered that the description of the diary was identical to her missing ledger. Red hair... Xiuyang had enough self-respect to not gaze beyond the veil a fellow insecure girl had put up over her face—but, making red hair appear pink was easy enough. In fact, Xiuyang figured her whole look could be achieved with a very simple bloom effect.

But, there was a problem with pinning Raffaella as her suspect.

The girl's RAS was simply too low to match the hair she'd found.

"And the boy?" Xiuyang prodded.

"A tall fellow, likely Eskandish. Brown hair, blue eyes. He seemed sincerely unaware of the girl's thieving."

That sounds like Niallus. Yeah, he wouldn't suspect a girl like Raffaella at all. Were they an item, though? If the old man saw them as a couple, she was probably manipulating him. "So, you must have told them the book was empty, and I suppose they moved on. Where did they go after that?" She continued her interrogation.

"That's the bigger mystery, isn't it? The girl was checking her compass inside the shop, but neither of them seemed to be prepared to travel anywhere."

That was it. Raffaella was using Niallus for his compass. The compass... It could have led her to my warehouse and showed her the secret place. That explains how someone found and accessed it without being aware of the trap I'd placed in advance. It all makes sense, but... Raffaella is just too weak to match that hair. Unless she was holding back in the Trials?

But why would Raffaella hold back in the Trials? It didn't make any sense. She took her losses poorly. Everyone who saw her knew she'd cried. Xiuyang remembered it clearly. She'd cried about how no one was going to feed her if she didn't win. There were whispers that she was being abused, but it was all swept under the rug quite cleanly, somehow. Even she had forgotten until just now. Her RAS was certainly too low to be a match, but she did have both the talent to remain hidden from the eyes of her guards, as well as a motive. The girl's ethnic background was also a bit of a question mark. Was she really from Constantia?

It also didn't explain the missing bayonet. Would Raffaella really steal such a macabre-looking thing? Was there a second intruder, or a co-conspirator? Xiuyang had more questions than answers, so she dismissed them for now. She had another lead. Though it wasn't a perfect theory, it was likely that Raffaella had stolen Paydirt, thinking it was her mother's diary. The ink was invisible, so it wasn't as if the compass had any defining features to distinguish between these old books. She might not have realized her mistake until after returning home—if indeed she ever did.

But if she did? There was a possibility, however small, that a girl that hated Xiuyang knew she had dirt on her family.

If I can find the real diary, then I may have a bargaining chip. We can agree to a truce and exchange them. It's a long shot, but what else can I do? If there was even the smallest chance this was an honest mistake—she thought her dead mother's diary was stolen—I don't want to hurt her. "Thank you," she offered the old man as she turned to leave. She would have to pursue this lead fast.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Xiuyang turned, irritated. The man was holding the old diary out to her.

"I may be a greedy old goat, but even I have my pride as a merchant. This is yours."

She hadn't intended to buy it, but she decided that a dummy might be useful someday. So, she took it with her.

---

The following few days passed in a flash. Raffaella's mother's belongings had been sold at auction, so Xiuyang had her agents track down the seller's name. With Ciro's banking contacts, she was able to retrieve the records of who purchased what. She did not tell him why she was interested in the diary beyond the fact that traveling was a passion of hers, and a fellow traveler's autobiography would be a gold mine of interesting stories. She couldn't tell him that her family's reputation may be in jeopardy. She couldn't bear to find out if it would put their entire relationship at risk.

There was a problem, however: the diary was not itemized anywhere. It wasn't hidden in the old house Raffaella and her mother had been staying in, as she'd checked it immediately, since Raffaella had conveniently returned to Virang. This search would require some out of the box thinking. If the diary's hiding place wasn't in the building, then it must have left the building. Furniture. Who bought the woman's reading desk?

Incredibly, she recognized the name of a nobleman from Miatto with shares in her father's company. Contriving a pretense to get inside his house without breaking and entering would be a breeze. Quietly, she thanked the gods for another easy mission, and another excuse to sail the Ensollian, where she could clear her mind and her itinerary.

---

Disguised as her father, she paid the man a surprise visit, and shared a meal filled with savory foods. Xiuyang knew that when she transformed back, there would be one hell of a stomachache to pay, but she didn't care. She needed to wine and dine this man and gain access to his personal library. She dug deep into her knowledge of Company business, considering the kind of venture this man might be interested in. It didn't matter if the deal went through or not, but before long, she found herself giving him a sincere pitch. She had her pride as a merchant, after all.

At last, the opportunity came to tour the library. It didn't take Xiuyang long to find what she was looking for. Though it was a humble little book, it stood out to her. "Oh? My wife has a book just like this one."

"Oh yes. Funny story, that one. I was checking out this desk at an auction at Ersand'Enise and found a hidden compartment with that book inside. You'd have laughed if you saw how quickly I shut the drawer, but knowing the owner... I just had to have it!" He steepled his fingers with glee. "So there I was, the only man in the auction who knew of the secret diary, when..." (snip)

Xiuyang zoned out. Miattans certainly could spin tall tales. "Ah, an adventurous venture. Well now, you have my attention," she lied. "What did the contents entail?"

"Some truly eye-opening gibberish!" He laughed. "Madam Mataraci had been quite senile for some time, it seems. It's a shame. If you'd have met her when she was traveling, you'd have thought she was a genius. Why, the heresies in that tome... to pick an example I found most poignant..." (snip) "...you'd have never guessed just from meeting her that she had such wild fantasies. Quite frankly, even at its most sensible, the jargon used goes cleanly over my head." He made a "whoosh" gesture with his hand, which Xiuyang found quite relatable in this moment.

Sounds like blackmail. Perfect. Even on the off chance that Raffaella read the ledger and had the attention span to find out what it all means, I can still keep her quiet. Xiuyang felt the weight of the empty diary in her pocket as she considered what she could do with it while the man wasn't looking. Did he intend to continue reading it? "Sounds like the kind of thing my daughter would be interested in. Would you consider loaning it out? Might be worth a chuckle or two over dinner."

The man raised a brow. "Are you sure you want to encourage her? I thought she was finally cleaning up her act when you told me she was trying to get married. Say, how is that coming along? Have those two made any progress?"

Xiuyang hardly wanted to talk about her love life with a man who might as well be a stranger, but the situation was dire. "Yes, I believe so. She seems truly happy whenever she speaks his name. It seems she feels appreciated by him in a way she never did by her mother or I."

"Ahh, but such is the nature of romance! Why, in my younger days..." (snip) "As the father of a daughter, such a bond is the most you can ask for, my friend." The man smiled. "It might not be appropriate, but if you don't mind my saying so... If those two want to spend some time alone, it might behoove you to look the other way. Someone with her mother's blood type will have the same difficulties you did, yes? They should start trying early for a child, so she can at least have one boy."

Xiuyang felt her eye twitch. It was easy to understand now why this guy was so low on the company totem pole. He had no tact whatsoever. "I've certainly done that," she mused out loud, now having to wonder about her father's intentions. "Perhaps I should speak to her more directly about my expectations?" She'd thought that he didn't care what she did, as long as she married a Volta in the end. Sure, she wanted children someday, but right now, all she could imagine was continuing to travel and do business as she always had, but with the love of her life at her side. Wouldn't having a baby on the way be an obstacle, logistically speaking? The idea of rushing to motherhood made her uncomfortable. It was not a conversation she'd had with Ciro yet. To stay in one place and perpetually await her lover's return home as he pursued business dealings alone and met with more attractive women than her was the exact opposite of what she wanted.

"A bribe, then. Something she will certainly enjoy." She plucked the diary from the shelf, pushing the thought of motherhood from her mind. None of it would matter if her family was ruined. Criminal activity or not, they were her own blood, and if Ciro were to leave her, she would sink down into the depths with them.

"A bribe? I worry for the girl's future if bedding such a handsome young lad is not its own reward."

I'd know that better than anyone, alright?! I don't need that kind of lecture!! Least of all from you!! Xiuyang silently fumed. "As a father who can hardly understand his own daughter's interests, I would appreciate your help in this matter." For a brief moment, Xiuyang almost felt bad for her own father on account of how accurately she was portraying his alleged "struggles." "Please. I'm grasping at straws, here."

She really was, she realized. It would all be devastatingly comical if the stakes weren't so high.

After a moment of bemused pondering, the man shrugged. "Why not? Double my profit share in that proposal of yours, and it's yours from today."

"Your terms are acceptable," Xiuyang replied with little thought. What had she offered him, again?

"Ah! Your love for your daughter moves me. As both a businessman and a gentleman, you are a model for me to follow, Mr. Solari. In fact, ever since..." (snip)

Whatever I offered him, it was too much, even before I doubled it.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Being outside of Rei's reach isn't as great as you think, Oros."

---

Ring Ring~

...

Ring Ring~

...

You have reached the voice mail box of...

Me!! That's who!!

You thought you were off the hook?

I'm so popular, my phone's off the hook!

Now look at you.

You're left holding the line, and the sinker!

Because...

I don't answer phishing calls!

(Sitcom laugh track)

I'll be here all week!

Except right now.

I'm like, super totally busy right now.

Your call is very important to me. Maybe.

Leave a message after the bleep if you think I give a fffFFFF—

Beep.

---

♬

Bright lights invaded Kiyo's eyes. It was an unwelcome interruption to what had previously been an uneventful but peaceful dream: she'd been speeding on her motorcycle down a mostly empty and straight road, feeling the wind in her hair, and one of Shuuko's many bodies against her back in an embrace. She'd been gazing up at one of the very few things she liked to look at—the night sky—with one of the very few people she liked to be with, doing one of the very few things she liked to do. It was, perhaps, the closest thing to heaven that someone like Evil Eye could experience.

So, what the fuck was this shit? Kiyo thought she could hear singing. Figures in white robes stood over her. "It's nice to see you're awake, young miss. What's your name?" one asked. To hell with this! This wasn't a confession booth. What was it, an operating table? You think I'll just let you pluck my eyes out and toss me like a stray cat right through the pearly gates? Fuck you. You created this. It's your fault the balance is all off. You can count me out.

Mother nature was deceptive and vicious. Things that were beautiful were often dangerous, but one place in all of creation where Kiyo could find honesty was in the night sky. There, there was more darkness than light, just as in life, where kind and good people were few, far apart, and always out of reach or too dim to be of any use on this earth. They did, however, have many orbiters—usually a few too many.

Kiyo supposed the angel sought her real name. She imagined giving it to him, only to receive some scalding remark about her Kurai Majokko title in return. Wouldn't it be hilarious to just skip all the pretentiousness? "Evil Eye," she managed with a smirk. Speaking was still difficult, it seemed. "Hm? Sorry, could you repeat that?"

The singing gave way to the familiar buzzing of incandescent bulbs. The figures began to come into focus. This was, in fact, a hospital, and Kiyo was very much not dead yet. "Uh. Ybille Ai," she decided, noticing that Shuuko wasn't around. That was unusual—not that Kiyo made a habit of getting hospitalized, but she figured the priestess would sooner nurse her partner to health by herself than entrust her to some doctor. Maybe there was some kind of emergency? "Ybille Ai. Alright, Ai-san," he remarked, deadpan. "Please remain calm. You are safe and expected to make a full recovery. You suffered a concussion, and your right ankle is broken along with several ribs, but considering the circumstances I'd say your survival was a miracle. The paramedics found you over a hundred meters away from your bike. It was totaled. Would you like me to call your parents?"

Kiyo was stunned, but not by the man's lacking bedside manner. She had been riding her bike, hadn't she? That's right. She was trying to solve the mystery of why the Miseria in Hibusa Town were so weak. She had an initial hypothesis: that her magical power itself also relied upon the same "tragic energy" that the Miseria fed upon, and so her presence, or constant surveillance of Hibusa Town might have been the cause. The best way to test it was to travel to another place by herself, with no summoned minions constantly watching everything. Fortunately, not only was her hypothesis false, but she'd developed a much better hypothesis that seemed to have been correct. Not that she'd had any intention of returning to Hibusa Town, of course—the entire premise of her "mission" was just an excuse to get away from that doomed place. Even if about half of the Detention Club were redeemable agents, anyone with functioning eyes could see that they were held back by a leader that didn't seem capable of feeling any kind of urgency. She'd forgotten where she was driving when a streak of bright burning metal started chasing her like some kind of missile, but it turned out to be a magical girl. She'd grabbed Kiyo, and then... blank.

"Uhm. Don't have any parents," she lied. Was it a lie? Not like it mattered. "My roomie will pick me up. She's a good girl." She thought about using her magic to convince the doctor that she didn't need a ride, but why the rush? She didn't exactly have anywhere to be at the moment.

Ring Ring~

...

Ring Ring~

...

Maybe Shuuko was in a battle. Seemed like she'd have to leave a message.

Beep.

"Hey, Shuuko. I know I'm late calling. Actually... I'm in the hospital, so come pick me up. It's not that bad but I crashed my bike and I, uh, don't feel like walking."

"Alright, Ai-san. I'm going to prescribe some painkillers for you, so please wait here." Kiyo considered telling him not to bother, since she could just transform as soon as she hit the restroom and the pain would go away, but what the hell? She'd still owed money on that totaled bike—unlike the "disposable" bikes which she stole for one-off missions, she actually owned and took care of that one. This meant that she was now broke, and pills were free money. Just as he'd turned to leave, though, she remembered something. "By the way, doc, where are we?" she asked. The doctor looked a little surprised. No, he looked a little tired. Come to think of it, he'd forgotten to introduce himself, too. "Ah, of course. My apologies. This is..."

The City of Light

^{Written in Collaboration with BrokenPromise}

"Hello, doctor?! Would you hurry up?! It's an emergency, alright?!"

---

♬

You've got to be fucking kidding me, of all places!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!!

"S-Sorry, Shuuko, I gotta go. Call me back, ok?"

Click.

Furious, she squeezed bunches of her bed sheet for stress relief as she considered leaving without those pills. To think she'd been so flippantly considering using her magic just moments before. Any one of these nurses, any one of her fellow patients could be—no, was probably a magical girl. People being a little too eager to gaze into Kiyo's eyes was not exactly an unfamiliar phenomenon, but now she found herself averting her eyes from everyone, so she wouldn't be found out. She wondered if it made her look even more suspicious. Finally, the doctor had returned with the pills and what was left of Kiyo's belongings: her cell phone, which mercifully was locked but had a cracked screen, and the very ragged-looking remains of her bike jacket. It was in rough shape, but it seemed that whatever magical girl had caught her saw fit to make sure she didn't hit the pavement, at least. Well, she definitely wasn't going to stick around to meet her, at any rate.

Kiyo walked uncomfortably fast with her single crutch. Who else could she call? Did she actually have any reliable, non-magical girl contacts in Hibusa Town? Even Rei wouldn't dare come here, probably. Even if she would, it'd mean getting back in with the Detention Club, and that was no good. The same was true of the Rule Keeper. She wasn't particularly close to anyone else besides Shuuko. She would probably freak out, but it was better than calling nobody... probably. She'd just have to rely on her. It was with this thought that Kiyo slipped into the hospital's elevator. She didn't have time for something like learning how to navigate stairs like this right now.

"Hey miss! You're not from here, are you?"

With a jolt, Kiyo turned her eyes towards the shorter girl, with much more innocent eyes than hers.

"Sorry! I didn't recognize your uniform, so I got curious! Are you a tourist? Do you do modeling? Is it cosplay?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"...Y-yeah. I was visiting. That was the plan," Kiyo lied.

"Aw, do you have to go? You should come back sometime. It's great here! This place is so great, it's like a fairytale... Well, you don't seem like the kind of girl who believes in magic."

"Well, uh... I survived my bike crash, so that's one miracle. Do you think asking God for a second miracle would be too greedy?"

"Oh, of course not! I pray you have a speedy recovery!" The girl waved way too enthusiastically for Kiyo's comfort as she left the elevator. She almost missed the fact that this was the ground floor.

At last, the lobby. ...The hell it is! 'At last' nothing! Where do I go from here?! she thought furiously as she hastily walked outside. It was bright—so, so bright. It had to be broad daylight, but she couldn't see a thing. All she could do was keep moving, hoping her crutch would entitle her to a wide berth from the crowd. Privately, she wondered if her inability to see anything without shielding her eyes made her stick out. How she hated this accursed brightness.

"Stop right there!! Don't move!!"

Kiyo froze. Surely, this was the end of her life. Or was it? She only knew that Kurai Majokko who entered the City of Light never left. Was it death that awaited her, or worse—some kind of exorcism? The latter was probably unlikely, but if Kiyo was anything approximately in the ball park of "former mad scientist of the Detention Club," she was unlikely to participate in any self-reflection on this level of projection.

So, that was it. "Evil Eye" would die here.

"You almost fell right down the stairs into the subway! Here, take my hand."

Another smiling girl full of kindness. This one was a bit taller than Kiyo.

"You look like you're in pain. Are you alright? Can you manage?"

Between the pain and the brightness, Kiyo was indeed holding back tears. To cry would be to release her magic. To cry here would be the end. She didn't fear death—no, what Kiyo feared was losing sight of the Truth. To return to the light would be to become "blind" once more. "I'll do it myself. The doctor said I'd never walk properly again if I don't do it myself, so..." She lied again.

"...Oh! I'm sorry, I just thought... Please be careful, okay?"

"Heh. Right." Kiyo scowled quietly as she turned her attention from another waving lunatic to the infernal stairs. To accept kindness from a light girl would be to allow her magic power to increase; in the first place, it was a manner of "kindness" that was indistinguishable from exploitation. Evil Eye would not entertain such false ideals. Setting that aside, accepting kindness from others would slow her descent into deeper darkness—she'd never allow such a thing to stall her scientific progress.

Well, that was just her own personal hypothesis. It stood to reason that if light girls gained in strength from practicing virtues, dark girls could gain in strength from rejecting them. More important to the task at hand... Looks like that station is closest to the city limits. She regarded the man who stood in her way from afar with calculating eyes. If she used even an iota of her magic's usual strength, she could easily convince him to let her board without a pass. She imagined doing so. She also imagined at least half a dozen pairs of eyes locking onto her immediately. So, that was out—but there was always a way.

Like other girls, Kiyo had once been part of this thing called a "polite society." In Japan, where everyone was just oh so well behaved, who would ever do such a thing? No one, of course. That's why it was completely unguarded. Good. I hate crawling around like a snake. 'Protagonists' should be on their knees hiding from me, not the other way around, she thought irritably.

Kiyo popped a pill, waited for her moment, then pulled the fire alarm.

Predictably, panic ensued. Also predictably, no less than eight girls found opportunities to transform and begin looking for the fire—Kiyo wouldn't look at them directly, but now she could see the board. A few of the magical girls watched over the civilians as they escaped. One took an interest in Kiyo. "Come on! You can do it! Just a little farther! ...Woah!" The girl invisibly shoved a man who was fleeing the same restroom corridor from behind, preventing Kiyo from being trampled. Kiyo forced her eyes away from the girl like she was a camera on set. In theory, being in close proximity to multiple light girls was a constant in this place. It wasn't like their transformations changed the situation. In practice, seeing them all made Kiyo's skin crawl.

"She's scared. Poor thing. Can't we just carry her out?"

"Well, of course she's scared! She can barely walk and there's a fire!"

"Hey guys," another magical girl yawned. "There's no fire. We checked, liiike... everywhere. So... Let's just go to school like this. I don't wanna be late again..."

"Really? Someone made a mistake?"

"Looks like it. I mean, I really don't care what happened since there's no fire, sooo... yeah. I'm leaving."

"But..."

"Come on. If we keep her waiting, she'll just skip school altogether."

"Yeah, but..."

Kiyo didn't look at them, but she could feel the last girl's eyes on her. Just go. Like your friend said, you don't really care, so. Beat it! Finally, she looked up, and Kiyo was all alone in the subway—except for one of the watchmen, who was facing the other way and talking to someone upstairs, out of sight. Kiyo lifted her crutch up off the ground and took off running towards the empty train. Despite the help from the painkillers, running quickly gave way to speed-walking, which became shuffling, and then limping. Back to the crutch, then. At least now she was on the train.

She would probably be spotted when the surveillance footage was reviewed a day later, but by then, she'd be out of town. For now, if anyone asked, she was just a tired, injured girl on the back of the train that no one saw, who accidentally knocked herself out with medicine and slept through a fire alarm on the luckiest day possible to make that mistake. Pity tended to override probing questions.

Actually, she was pretty tired... a nap couldn't hurt too badly...

♬

But sleep would not come easy for Kiyo. Not because of the railway noise, or how every shadow presented a place for someone to hide. Even the eerie feeling that came from being in a liminal space would give her little trouble. It was the other thing. The faint blue light that painted the shadows, the familiar buzz of an electric fly trap, all letting her know that she wasn't alone on this train.

It revealed itself slowly. A ball as white as porcelain inched past her seat. It was so white it reminded her of the hospital walls, only it was arcing with electricity. As it continued to come into view, Kiyo could see that was only the end of the contraption. It had blue and red cable that connected further down the body of the machine, only to vanish under body panels that were just as white as the dynamo on the end. But it wasn't just a contraption. A gloved hand was holding it, and as the hand's owner stepped into view Kiyo could see it was a girl. One with a white and black jacket and hair that could only be stylized by an electronic discharge. Her thick black gloves made her look like a mad scientist, but the pouches all over her outfit also made her look like a soldier. The lightning girl turned her blue eyes on Kiyo. Then she smiled and lowered her weapon.

"Sup?"

It was at this moment that Kiyo knew: no matter how perfect (self-proclaimed) her plans were laid out, they were always subject to Murphy's Law. Between the magical girl who attacked(?) her on the road, the paramedics, the doctors and nurses, and many other civilians, the chances that none of them had been a magical girl and also caught a glimpse of the tattoo at the base of her neck was near zero. Indeed, she should have seized her moment and left the hospital without a care for anything or anyone. Those pills had cost her a valuable chance to raise the odds that she wasn't followed.

On the other side of that same coin, the chances that this was a random encounter were also not zero, so there was nothing to be gained from giving herself up immediately. Lazily, Kiyo looked around, for nothing and no one in particular, hoping she looked at least somewhat convincingly confused. She waited just a little bit long, but not too long waiting for the magical girl to decide that Kiyo couldn't see her. "Last stop?" she wondered aloud, channeling her best Tsubomi impression. Even in this situation—no, especially in this situation, she could not help but ask a question with a double meaning.

The longer this light girl stood by Kiyo's side, the more it started to smell like ozone. Her smile grew as electricity arced between the points in her hair. It was as if she relished the silence.

"Is that how you answer sup?" She slid into an adjacent seat on the opposite side of the train. She placed her contraption in her lap and flexed her fingers. "I don't like to plan for the future. I'm looking for something, and my next stop could be soon or an hour from now. But... I think I'll know it when I see it. I usually do." She nodded to herself. "Do you know where you're headed?" Did that have a double meaning, or was it just an innocent question?

Kiyo flicked her eyes towards the electric girl briefly. Kiyo's red eyes were slightly magnetic, but then again, weren't most foreigner girls like that? They warranted a second look because they were uncommon. "You knew I could see you," she observed. "Am I that obvious, or are you just really good?" She allowed the question to settle a bit as she pondered the light girl's musings.

"I'm just a little observant." She looked ahead and folded her hands behind her head. She couldn't lean back too far, the giant tesla coil sticking out of her backpack obstructed her. "You're in a lot of pain, clearly. There was a hospital that wasn't too far away. If you were worried about your injury, which you should be, then you would have gone there. But maybe you didn't know about the hospital, or were too panicked to remember where it was." Without looking, she pointed at Kiyo's phone. "But you do have a phone. You could call someone if you really needed help. But you've chosen not to. So, you're probably a magical girl." She looked back and smiled. "Of course, I didn't know for sure until you answered back."

Kiyo listened to the girl with the science motif offer her thesis, and watched her point to the correct pocket at a cell phone she was sure the girl hadn't physically seen Kiyo holding at any point. She can detect pain and emotional states by reading the electrical signals. For someone packing so much firepower, that's pretty sophisticated. Kiyo smiled, her interest piqued. "Your conclusion is correct, but the premise was wrong. The doctor already did all he could. If I'm going to be in pain anyway, I might as well keep on living. I'd rather do that than stagnate in a hospital bed and eat protein bars."

She gave her prior question some more thought. She chose her words more carefully than she normally would when forced to entertain a stranger. Perhaps the possibility that they were engaged in some kind of verbal game of cat and mouse intrigued her. "Where I'm headed? Just a little further down the tunnel. Maybe there's light at the end of it. Maybe there isn't. I'll know when I get there." Her smile grew wider. She didn't mean for her comment to mirror the other girl's, but it did. "I always used to scout ahead before going to new places... but my friends called me 'boring,' so I stopped doing that." What was this, a confession booth? Why was she talking about her days as a light girl with a stranger? "Maybe I'll get off when I feel like walking again," she added, much less seriously.

♬

"That might be a bit." She stood back up and reached for a hand brace. With all her gear, it was probably a lot more comfortable to stand up. "If we're going to keep talking, I'm Boleite. Bodacious Boleite if you're part of the team. But you're not, and if I'm honest, it's a little cringe. I thought Badass Boleite would be cool, but everyone thought that was too vulgar." She sighed. "You're forgiven if you don't want to share your own name though. This is an awkward situation we've found ourselves in, isn't it?"

Boleite talked on, and Kiyo listened. It occurred to her that this girl could probably fry her like a mosquito if she really wanted to. There really wasn't any reason not to, either, other than their mutual amusement. Unless... "You're playing hooky too, aren't you?" The question came suddenly like a syringe before the alcohol was allowed to dry. "I won't tell anyone. But before that... what, exactly, is cringe? Not being gay? You can count me out. Call yourself a badass if you really want to. Who cares what anyone else thinks?"

Boleite looked like she was going to tell Kiyo what cringe was, but her rapid fire response didn't allow her much room to speak. The girl only shrugged her shoulders and sighed. "I'm part of a magical girl team, so our names do need to mesh for cohesion. And honestly..." She lifted her weapon up in the air and pumped her bicep. "It's a lot cooler if you just show people you're a bad ass. Cringe is just something that gives people second hand embarrassment. Like when dark magical girls get into waxing philosophical about the night or go on about how unfair and wrong the world is." Kiyo looked ready to tell Boleite that she knew what cringe is, but then she had to call her out like that. Her mild annoyance manifested itself as a raised brow.

"As for playing hooky? Not exactly." She rolled her eyes. "I mean, I guess I'm not at school right now. But that can get cleared up with a phone call. Though I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I just left after such a strange event." She pointed at the doors leading out with her weapon. "I mean, a fire alarm gets pulled. There's no fire, so that's a good thing. But it does make me wonder who did it, and why." Her hair was stiff, but it seemed to spring when she swung her head side to side. "It couldn't have been any of the light girls. They were all pretty eager to return to school, and it wasn't like they had any motive." For some reason, Kiyo thought it odd that in the City of Light, specifying "light girls" would be necessary. Everyone knew there weren't any dark magical girls in the City of Light. At least, there weren't supposed to be. "Maybe some brat did it and escaped without me noticing, but I don't think that's very interesting." The smile left her face while she stared into Kiyo's eyes. "Why did you do it?"

Kiyo jolted.

---

Hey, Ai-chan. Next time, just tell me what's going on, alright?

W-What do you mean? It wasn't me, I swear!

Ai-chan... You know you're a terrible liar, right?

Huh?! H-How can you tell..?

It's your eyes! They're so big and round. Everyone can tell what you're thinking.

...Also, you just told me.

Guh..!

---

Piin-pon.

No, it had been the train that jolted. At some point, it had started moving. Had they really been talking for that long? Had the conductor returned, or was it Boleite's doing? She could kill her in the tunnel and blame the entire incident on a malfunction. The third rail would be blamed for the smoldering corpse. Or, perhaps she'd just paralyze her and cause the train to run away and crash, if she wanted to make a clever quip about her "last stop." She could take the credit for noticing a problem with the train and pulling the fire alarm to save everyone. For the moment, though, the train remained motionless, almost as though it refused to move until Boleite had received an answer to her query.

Kiyo met Boleite's eyes lazily. I'd have to be pretty dull to fall for this same trick again to the same girl in the same conversation. She was quite certain there were no eyes on her when she pulled the alarm. Then again, if this girl could detect electrical signals, she could probably detect bodies. But, could she detect them through walls while untransformed? It was a gamble. Lying was always a gamble, while a little honesty sometimes went a long way—but in a context where Boleite could turn her into a pile of black goo with no consequences... "...Is that the dramatic twist? I did it? That's a little lame, don't you think? Maybe someone was just scared and needed an adult, and pulling a switch was easier than speaking up. I once knew a shy girl who would do that kinda thing." She rocked her neck, cracking it. It hurt a little. "I won't lie, though, it was convenient for me. My train pass was obliterated along with my wallet when I crashed my bike. When it rains, it pours."

"And sometimes, it thunders." Boleite added with a chuckle. "I don't know. I really don't know. I think it could be interesting." She leaned forward, if only because the train was turning. Kiyo leaned back in her seat as Boleite leaned forward. "Like, we know you're a magical girl, right?" She chuckled. "You don't like hospitals because you don't want to be forced to eat protein bars, and you think I should call myself whatever I like because I shouldn't care about what other people think of me. Those seem like interesting traits for someone who stopped scouting because their friends called them boring."

Piin-pon.

Two more stops. Was Kiyo's gaslighting really effective at all, or was Boleite outright telling her that she was showing mercy just now?

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you still have those friends? Probably not. You would have waited in a safe place so that they could come and get you. Actually, you missed your chance to get those light girls to help you. But you hid from them. You didn't want them to find you. I can't think of many reasons why you'd try to keep such a low profile. I mean, magical girls are more or less invisible, and stronger than their normal selves. So the only reason why you'd insist on staying like that despite injury is if you were hiding from them." She let go of the hanger. Her feet were locked to the metal floor of the train. "You're right, you pulling the alarm as a prank is kinda boring. But if you were a dark magical girl trying to flee? With light girls like myself creeping around every corner? That would be pretty badass."

Piin-pon.

One more stop. The train squeaked and thumped along. For some strange reason, Kiyo thought the noise profile of the train was very similar to that of "domestic violence next door."

Kiyo looked visibly uncomfortable. "I tried joining a couple of magical girl troupes. They were suffocating, so I ditched. I'd rather be under the radar, but that seems impossible in this place, so I didn't plan on staying long." She seemed to be pointedly ignoring Boleite's comment on dark magical girls, until she suddenly spoke up again. "I like to travel a lot. Magical girls working together seems to be the norm here more than anywhere else. Seems something like a dark magical girl existing here would be unlikely." She'd probably been thinking of a way to change the subject.

Instead, she asked the kind of question that would probably scandalize an innocent light girl.

"What would you do if a junior of yours were to start turning dark? Like, is there a protocol for that? Can they be pulled back from the precipice, or is it like an event horizon?" she mused. It was not the sort of question a magical girl of light would ask so casually. She spoke of it as though it were something to be studied, rather than feared.

"I don't know. It's never come up."

Kiyo looked a little disappointed—but there was also a strange kind of respect, too.

"Ah, right. You did say you don't like to plan for the future."

A moment passed in stone cold silence. The conversation had stopped, but it took an uncomfortable amount of time for the train to follow suit.

Piin-pon.

With some difficulty, Kiyo stood up and forced a smile through the pain. "I hope you find what you're looking for at your next stop, Badass Boleite. But, if you find me instead, call me Kiyo. It's a fake name, but it's one of very few things that belongs to me, so I don't give it out to just anyone."

"Like the folk character?" Boleite inquired.

If I were a snake, I would have bit you, was what Kiyo decided was the clever answer, but she wouldn't offer it.

When Boleite realized her query would go unanswered, she shrugged her shoulders. "Well thanks! If I happen to see you again I'll be sure to remember it." She saluted Kiyo as the dark magical girl stumbled her way towards the exit. "May you finish your daring escape!"

Kiyo let out a good-natured scoff. Light girls. Always have to get the last word in... Slowly, she made her way off the train and out of the subway without incident, but not without struggle. If going down stairs was precarious, going up stairs was going to be exhausting. Then, there would be that wretched brightness again.

Wait...

There's... a wheelchair-accessible ramp here! Was there one at the other stop?

There was.

With the sun in her eyes, she must have not seen it. Kiyo pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. Of course. It doesn't take a scientist to think that a girl with a crutch going down stairs would look a little odd if there was a ramp. Looks like I got that second miracle after all.

Slowly, but surely, Kiyo made her way to the less-populated outskirts of the City of Light. As romantic as it would be to walk off into the sunset, though, no one could argue that going any further like this wouldn't look a little odd. In the end, I still need a ride, huh. It was then that Kiyo realized something. I don't need my wallet to get a ride. I just need my phone! Quickly, she shuffled towards a gas station parking lot and set to work mooching the wifi. Ugh. Card declined. Great... ...Shuuko wouldn't mind, right? It's an actual emergency this time. But, her memory was foggy. At the best of times, she could remember something like a credit card number just fine, even if she only saw it a few times, but right now, she was tired, recovering from a concussion, and probably a little drugged out.

"Hey, cutie. Need a ride?"

A stranger was looking over Kiyo's shoulder at her broken phone screen, watching her predicament unfold. So, even in the City of Light, there are guys like this, she mused. "Yeah, but... it's a long way out of town..." she replied innocently.

"Hey, don't sweat. I'll take care of it."

It was a manner of "kindness" that was indistinguishable from exploitation.

But, in this case, there was no dishonesty, only honest selfishness.

They both understood the rules of engagement here.

...

Well, maybe he didn't, but that was his problem.

"Where we headed, sweet cheeks?" he asked, preening his absurd hair as he met Kiyo's eyes in the rear view mirror. For a little while, he simply admired them, content to listen to the sound of the engine as he took his catch onto a long and empty lane of the nearest highway out.

There was plenty of traffic going in to the City of Light in the evening, but going out would be a breeze... if not for the pair of invisible magical girls currently following them. Kiyo reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling as she massaged it. He could no longer see or hear anything but what Evil Eye wanted him to see.

"Straight to hell, buddy."

---

♬

Evil Eye gave only the briefest of glances to the transformed girls who appeared in the mirror as she locked the doors.

The hapless guy, however, sat transfixed. He saw demons. Horrible, screeching, long-nailed demons, that's what those girls were.

Instinctively, he screamed and floored the gas pedal—an appropriate reaction to being pursued by bloodthirsty women, and one which Evil Eye was counting on.

"W-What the fuck are those things?!" he cried out over the roar of the car's rapidly accelerating engine.

Evil Eye regarded the pursuing magical girls with some ill-timed scientific curiosity.

"It's a surprisingly philosophical question. I'm not really sure, myself, but some kind of cosmic horror is probably involved. Just look at me, and they won't hurt you. If you look at me, and don't look at them, they won't be able to touch you... if you look at them, though, we're both gonna die," she added nonchalantly. Unsure of what else he could possibly do in this surreal and horrifying situation, he obeyed, locking his eyes on Evil Eye's.

"I-I smell sulfur! They're really demons?!" he replied as he fell into deeper delusion.

"Stop the car!!" one magical girl shouted through the window as she roller-bladed alongside it, but Evil Eye ignored her pleas.

"Yeah. They'll torment you in all kinds of little ways and convince you that it's your fault. Then they'll wait until you get used to having them around, and stab you in the back. Just look at me," she insisted, as she moved her hand to retrieve a small screwdriver from her bike jacket pocket.

"What are you doing?! Stop!!" the girl pleaded through the passenger window, trying the handle in vain. The car was going so fast, she didn't know what she could do without causing the car to swerve or the driver to panic. She wasn't strong enough to slow the car down to a stop. Her partner was, but she wasn't fast enough to get in front!

Evil Eye jerked her head to the side to look the girl in the eyes as she whipped out the screwdriver from her bike jacket, pointing it at the guy's neck. Those unnaturally wide-open eyes that seemed to lock hers in place like magnets were filled with a kind of evil scarcely seen even among dark magical girls. That crazed glance was the last thing she saw before the sights and sounds of the road faded away into a scene of a funeral. All of her magical girl friends were there, blaming her for someone's death in "the car crash." All of this could have been avoided if she'd not tried to play the hero. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare, and though she only saw it for a few seconds before she snapped back to reality, she found that she had untransformed, and stopped her pursuit entirely. Her friend looked on in horror as she simply stood there, helpless in the middle of the highway in a daze.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONK

"NO!!" her partner cried, leaping to her rescue and snatching her out of the way of the oncoming truck, shielding her body as they both tumbled into a ditch. Thank the stars, she'd managed to fall back to her position just in time. "Are you alright?! What did she do to you?! ...Say something, please..!"

Her friend said nothing. Her eyes, like the dark girl's eyes, were open wide. She looked scared, confused, and sad, all at once. She let out a whimper and sobbed into her hands. Her partner could do nothing but hold her and put her own smoldering fury on the back burner.

Evil Eye turned her attention back to her captive audience. He'd long since stopped making any kind of noise. So long as Evil Eye kept looking back to the mirror, this singular moment of terror would last an eternity for the helpless boy with no resistance to magic. Something else grabbed her attention, though: a police blockade. "Looks like this is your last stop," she remarked blithely.

A moment of indecision passed.

"...Slow down a little, or you're going to die." She wasn't sure why she said it. This wasn't Hibusa Town, and there was no Rule Keeper to prevent her from using any tragedy she wanted to further her own ends. Perhaps even she couldn't help but be a little grateful to Boleite for letting her go. "If you're gonna force me to accept kindness from you, I'm going to get even... but I'm not going to spit on your shoe. It's beneath me."

Evil Eye unbuckled her seat belt, and positioned her crutch in front of her head. An adrenaline-fueled moment stretched out in time. One moment, she was in the car—the next, she was flying through the air, eyes shut tight, holding her breath so as not to inhale the glass. The last time she'd flown through the air while escaping, it had been her hometown, her ex, and the friend who belittled and betrayed her.

...It hurts.

Blackened tears fell like mascara down Evil Eye's cheeks. They expanded, defying conservation of mass. Then, they morphed into a great black dog, which hit the ground running. Evil Eye wrapped her arms around its neck and held on for dear life. She felt the wind in her hair under the night sky. There was an embrace, but this one was cold as ice. For how long she did that, and how long she dreamed of it, she didn't know. One moment, she was listening to the sounds of the sirens fade into the distance. The next, she was laying on some grass somewhere.

The pair of pursuing magical girls arrived at the scene of the crash. The roller-blading girl saw the boy being carried off on a stretcher, moaning in agony as the dark magical girl's spell seemed to be starting to wear off. Unable to believe her own eyes, she rushed to the driver-side door of the smashed sports car. "...It's buckled," she remarked as she held the remains of the cut seat belt the boy had been extracted from. "It wasn't before. I saw it."

Her friend came up behind her and observed the scene. She whistled. "Another too-cool-for-a-seat-belt headass, huh? He wised up in time. Saved him." She watched her friend obsess over the detail for some reason. Suddenly, she got the urge to hug her again. "Glad you're okay."

"R-Right. Thanks. You saved my life!"

"Bout time you figured that out. Let's go home. That girl is long gone by now."

"Yeah," she agreed soberly.

He was definitely in a trance. She buckled his seat belt. Why would a dark girl do that?

Her partner would likely scoff at such a theory. So, she kept it to herself.

The news would report that an unidentified injured girl with a crutch had pulled a fire alarm in the subway, likely to get away from someone who had been stalking her. In the end, though, she had gotten into a stranger's car, and was never seen again, though the young man was caught in a high speed chase and brought to justice. There had been a warrant put out for his arrest in nearby Hibusa Town for failing to appear in court. To top it off, he had been facing sexual harassment charges. Abduction charges were dropped on account of a lack of evidence, and his sentence would be reduced on account of temporary insanity, but the women of Japan would never have to deal with him again, as he distanced himself from society—especially women.

The story would become something of an unsolved mystery. It sent shockwaves through the media, but was quickly forgotten about, except on obscure internet forums. Only a few magical girls knew that the abducted girl had been a Kurai Majokko, but even with the benefit of hindsight, they couldn't know if she had instigated whatever transpired in that car, or if the girl had been defending herself from a creep when their arrival had caused the confrontation to escalate. They didn't even know if she was alive or not. One magical girl's personal hypothesis was that she had made it out alright in the end.

Meanwhile, the culprit was looking up at a familiar face.

"...Interesting," she said, as everything faded to black.

...I can't be bothered with that nasty attitude of yours.

You want to drag me back into your court full of jesters?

That's fine.

Keep playing at being 'queen.'

I'll keep being your 'vizier.'

Just don't be surprised when that complacent attitude plays out exactly like the fairy tales.

When I surpass you, will you say it's "interesting" then?

Or will you try to pass it off as being your plan from the start?

...

Ah, shit.

I can hear my phone ringing.

Don't worry, Shuuko.

It'll be alright.

I'll tell you everything.

The story of how I, a stray cat, narrowly escaped the pearly gates.

...

I might leave out the part where my life was spared by a fellow scientist, though.

That part's kinda cringe.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

"Never leave a girl on read. Tell her to bet it all on black!"

---

It wasn't as if the Detention Club was made of money. If it was, that scratch had yet to trickle down any further than Rei, at any rate. So it was that not every one of Shuuko's mostly-disposable bodies could have a fully featured smartphone. Actually, money didn't seem like it would be the only issue. It sounded like a total logistical nightmare. If they all had one, though, did Shuuko hold some kind of world record? In any case, only the real one had a smart phone, probably. Did she actually keep it on her when she went on a mission, though? Seemed like it would be an easy way to know which one to target, if a light girl who was so inclined had her number, in more ways than one. Medusa's Mirror was always together when fighting, so Kiyo never needed to call during one, so she didn't really know. Maybe she should ask these kinds of questions. Did the other clones have burner phones? If not, maybe they should. All Kiyo really knew was that if she needed to call Shuuko right the fuck now, she should probably call the number she'd saved from the Detention Club's group chat and hope to get lucky. Just wing it, girl! What could possibly go wrong?

(1) Voicemail

"Hey, Shuuko. I know I'm late calling. Actually... I'm in the hospital, so come pick me up. It's not that bad but I crashed my bike and I, uh, don't feel like walking."

"Alright, Ai-san. I'm going to prescribe some painkillers for you, so please wait here."

There was a huff. Kiyo didn't take kindly to having her white lies called out mid-sentence.

"By the way, doc, where are we?"

A pause. Kiyo's breath could be heard getting ragged and difficult.

"S-Sorry, Shuuko, I gotta go. Call me back, ok?"

Click.

..."Sorry?" Kiyo never talked like that. Usually, there was more swearing.

Hopefully, the morphine just mellowed her out a little.

Kurai Majokko: Tsundere Gekido

---

Kuroki Kiyo - EVIL EYE

Kuroki Kiyo

Kurai Majokko EVIL EYE

"BUT IF THINE EYE BE EVIL, THY WHOLE BODY SHALL BE FULL OF DARKNESS—THEREFORE PLUCK IT OUT, AND CAST IT FROM THEE..."

• Name: Kuroki Kiyo
• Title: EVIL EYE
• Age: Older in spirit than the others. Really, who cares?

• Emblem: An udjat eye-styled tattoo on her back, at the base of her neck. Touching it allows others to see what she sees.

• Devil Arm - HEIMDAL GAZZO: A pair of magical crimson contact lenses. These once gave Kiyo an ability akin to x-ray vision, and a zoom feature which allowed her to be her allies' "eye in the sky." Now, her contact lenses emit a signal which, through eye contact, can cause psychedelic effects in her victims. Untransformed, even ordinary people may find her gaze mesmerizing, but with enough prolonged exposure in a transformed state, even magical girls can be affected. At first, victims will merely see or hear things that aren't there, but given enough time, the senses of taste, smell and touch can also be captured. If eye contact is maintained even longer still, the victim may lose their perception of time, believe things that are not true, or even remember things that didn't happen. After eye contact is broken, they will eventually recover, usually after a maximum of five minutes—but if it isn't? Kiyo claims her gaze alone can cause magical girls to fall to darkness.

• Magic - ABYSSAL TEARS: Her once-innocent wish to see the world was corrupted when she saw too much. Now, whenever EVIL EYE witnesses misfortune, wickedness, or other events that could cause Miseria to spawn, a kind of evil energy called "Saigai" is stored in her eyes. When released, her black ABYSSAL TEARS can form like sludge into monsters called "Sorrows;" most commonly levitating eye creatures called Mogall. These can transmit images of whatever they see directly to HEIMDAL GAZZO, giving Kiyo acute awareness of anything her minions are sent to spy upon. Mogall are weak, and can only use their sticky tendrils to stall Kiyo's enemies for just long enough to possibly allow her to escape danger and reunite with other Kurai Majokko—however, they can quickly become a problem if allowed to multiply unchecked, since they too can cry ABYSSAL TEARS. Stronger monsters capable of combat called "Traumas" can be formed using ABYSSAL TEARS, but using their wicked energies to do this will cause HEIMDALL GAZZO's more severe hypnotic effects to recede into more simple illusions. In theory, even more terrifying beasts called "Calamities" can be summoned, but this has yet to ever happen, so it remains EVIL EYE'S personal hypothesis.

• Background: Kiyo was once a perfect little angel, just like all of her sisters. Like many girls her age, she wanted to make the world a better place, but had no idea where to start. She wanted to be a good person, but wasn't really sure what that meant. She understood that it probably meant helping people, but it turned out that, secretly, she doesn't actually like working with people all that much—working with people who are broken and needy, even less so. She was the kind of person who had her life pretty put together, and didn't have much patience for anyone who wasn't just like her. She needed a clique. She wanted to see the world. Thus, when Kiyo had the opportunity to become part of a troupe of magical girls with ambitions to see all of Japan—and then the world—she accepted without question.

The other girls weren't like her, though. Far from it—they were selfish, and craved the spotlight that their role as heroes afforded them. Kiyo, meanwhile, did thankless work behind the scenes, mostly just scouting for trouble. She thought she was giving the other magical girls what they wanted: the spotlight. However, with her ability to see almost anything, anywhere, she quickly found out that the others did not respect her, at all. That was fine, though; they had a point: she wasn't great at combat. So, whenever she had the chance, she took Judo lessons. It was through those lessons that she got close to a boy her age, and eventually fell head over heels for him. The other girls did not take kindly to that, either. Most of them agreed that, sure, she was cute, but she was a "basic bitch," and he was out of her league.

It all came to a head when, one day, she was doing her scouting routine, and was missing him, and happened to pass over his place. She told herself that she shouldn't, but he had given her a key to his apartment by this point, though she had yet to use it. She figured it would be fine to just take a peek into his room to see how he was doing. She had seen many things in her life, and many evils which slowly challenged her optimism for this job, eroded her purity, and questioned her convictions—but seeing her boyfriend cheating on her with one of her supposed "friends" was the final straw. The innocent Magical Girl of Light, Eagle Eye, was never seen again, vanishing into the night.

Sample Post

Kiyo's blood ran colder than the surrounding night air as she watched, her ex-boyfriend and ex-friend taunting her with the warmth they were sharing behind her back. Both her face and knuckles turned pale as they tightened along with her chest, her heartbeat racing along with her mind as she weighed her options. She was not a fighter. Saya was. So was Nobu, but he couldn't take Saya in a fight if things turned south, and who's to say he was even on her side? Kiyo's face twisted, irate, as tears of anguish and fury silently streamed down her frigid cheeks, providing the only touch of warmth she would receive tonight—or for a long while, she supposed, for it was over.

It was purely and simply over. She had seen enough evil in the world, and had enough of being powerless to change it. All she wanted out of this job, at first, was to see the world, and to help the people in it, and she had given up on her initial dream of traveling when her allies had become addicted to the spotlight and the fame they enjoyed in Japan. Failing that, she had decided that charity should start at home, and resigned herself to help the people of Japan—but the government was corrupt, she saw. She saw everything, and was politely—with a subtle menace—told not to notice. The existence of heroes in this world was not celebrated—it was tolerated—perhaps exploited in some ways. The worst part was—or had been—that she couldn't tell her friends the truth—that everything they did was for nothing, in the end. "This is how Japan is," she longed to tell them, but the world had replied "this is how the world is, you fool."

It didn't matter anymore. Those girls, and especially that whore, didn't deserve to know the Truth. She decided, in this moment, to reclaim her lost wish: to see the world. The tattoo on her back twisted, becoming not an eagle's eye but a Masonic Eye. Her contact lenses receded from the bedroom below, refusing along with Kiyo to continue to witness such debauchery. They sang as they resonated with a subtle glow, showing Kiyo the world that she so wished to see—yet the blackened tears continued to fall, as she knew it to be both an illusion, and a sign of further mutations to come. She was turning, she knew—and could no longer muster the courage to protest the change. She would no longer be Eagle Eye, but EVIL EYE—the name coming to her as naturally as the wind, which chilled her more than the realization that she had become a Kurai Majokko. Her tears, too, grew cold, threatening to freeze to her cheeks. Her final speck of warmth was gone—as was she.

• Other:

Old Transformation

• Before being corrupted and becoming ABYSSAL TEARS, her magic once condensed "memories" into a magical energy, which could have turned the wonders of the world into powerful weapons—if she had ever had the chance to see them as a light girl. Unfortunately, most of the memories she created with her old light girl friends were lacking in potency, and these weapons lacked strength and luster as a result, breaking easily. The other magical girls made fun of her for it.
• The kind of girl to wax poetic while typing in ALL CAPS. Maybe this is why she doesn't have any friends?

The Hourglass Order

Judgment

---

---

Shortly After Ransom Demand - The Ever Tree

It was blood money, and they both knew it.

But, much to Xiuyang's chagrin, she found her conscience advising her that it was Seviin's right to do with her share as she pleased. If she threw it into the ocean, so be it. If she threw it back in Xiuyang's face, did she really have a case to take offense?

She found herself standing in front of Seviin's door just at the tail end of sunset, agonizing over what to do. She knew she was inside, probably praying. If she just left the money here and didn't speak to her, what kind of message would that send? Then again, if she found herself getting loudly lectured and chastised by Seviin, Juulet was surely sleeping just one or two rooms over, and that could only end badly.

Indeed, she had no choice, she told herself. This was for the best. She would crack the door open just slightly, leave the pay, the ransom, and the other box on the floor, and sneak out with no fuss. If she wanted to give her an earful about it later, at least it wouldn't be here.

It was with this in mind, then, that she opened the door as slowly as could be done.

But Seviin was not, in fact, in her room. The Ever Tree had been grown in such a way that every dormitory opened up onto the branches and they acted as a sort of patio before graduating off into a series of perches, ladders, and places to hang things. The Constantian yasoi always seemed to be more comfortable with it than the Tarlonese. Ashon was regularly out there when he was around instead of in his unofficial residence in Zarina's attic. During her visit, Juulet had often sat astride some branch or another, humming or carving something and swinging her singular foot back and forth.

Seviin felt herself ever less Tarlonese by the day, but she could feel Mother Oirase here: alive beside her in this space. She was sitting cross-legged on one of the many small platforms with her back turned and legs crossed, doing her evening meditations. She made no sound, not above the whisper of the wind, the rustle of the leaves, and the tinkling of a dozen chimes, and Xiuyang surely should've passed unnoticed.

Then, with a striking suddenness, the priestess raised a hand, all five fingers pointing straight upwards. These she flicked in a universal "come at me" gesture.

Well. Alright, then, Xiuyang thought, both bemused and somewhat resigned. She didn't know what to make of Seviin's intentions, but she was pretty sure this was going to end in a lecture. Would there be some even greater sin she had to repent for? Some grand display of penance she would want to see? Then again, she was pretty sure she wanted her to kill Dorothea for a moment back there. What did she know about Seviin, really?

She shrugged, following the gesture and entrusting herself to the branches, cradling the stack of boxes in her arm. Her feet were steady, but there was tension in her body. She hadn't returned to the Ever Tree since the day Juulet had hunted her like a dog, and her confidence wasn't what it once was. For now, she simply accepted that she was going to join Seviin on this platform, place the boxes between the two of them, and await whatever this was going to be.

All at once, Seviin lay back. It was so quick that it seemed almost odd that she hadn't conked her head. She spread her arms out and her long white hair spilled past the edge of the platform, dangling below like a wispy, gently swaying ghost. She patted a second platform beside her. "The stars are coming out," she said. "Maybe we can watch them together if you're not busy?" She turned her head where she lay and smiled up at Xiuyang.

Xiuyang jolted slightly, as if some small part of her expected Seviin to... what—knock her off the tree? But she maintained her balance, and then there was that slightly supportive smile once again. The smile went unreturned. Xiuyang's eyes seemed confused as she set the boxes down as she had planned from the start.

"I'm always busy," she replied. Despite her words, however, she let her hair down, removed her hat, and took the spot next to Seviin, laying her hat where her head would rest. Her short black hair had become long, and it settled around the inside of the hat like a bowl of noodles. She looked up at the sky, silent as she had entered.

A little bit of time passed in silence.

"I judge you, Xiuyang," Seviin said softly from the burgeoning darkness, "as I judge myself. As I judge everyone." She took a deep breath and watched a moth settle upon the glass of a nearby lantern. There was no hot flame, however, and it was not burned. "That doesn't mean I dislike you." She snorted. "Or very necessary funds." She puffed her cheeks out in something like relaxed frustration. "I've been learning to be a little less rigid and I'm not sure I like it."

"I've tried being a bit more rigid, myself. In my training, in my studies, in my manners. It doesn't suit me. It's exhausting. How did you survive until now?" Xiuyang replied, a bit of tension released with every word. Slowly but surely, her posture morphed into something more relaxed and comfortable. She rested her head on her hands as she tried to spot new stars as they appeared.

Silence hung for a while again, until the question on her mind had to come out. "...Did you really mean the things you said to Mother Gracie? ...About me." The one eye that Seviin could see might have flicked her way for just a moment, or it might have been a trick of the light.

"People know about Tarlon only what our people want them to know, Seviin replied, her voice quiet and pensive. "We are imbued with purpose from the moment we are born, for nobody can afford to be unproductive, or so they tell us."

She shifted, bringing her long, pale arms around behind her head and turning back to face the darkening sky. "I don't know if it's true anymore, but it... animates us. It brings us together. One society, united in purpose, under the gods," she snorted, but perhaps it was not all bitter irony. "Jaadas, juuras, tan'daxii." Perhaps she believed some of it. "But their purpose is killing people." She turned to Xiuyang and a tear slipped free of the corner of her eye. "I miss my home, Xiuyang. I miss my routines: they kept me going. I miss the unshakable strength of my faith, and I will not lose it." She seemed to draw strength just from those words alone. "I never say anything that I don't mean." She managed a tight smile, her single tear drying as she looked Xiuyang's way.

"I know that feeling," Xiuyang sighed in reply to her comment about being given purpose from birth. She'd had her suspicions that Seviin struggled with her country's actions, and now she had those confirmed. In truth, she found some part of Seviin's faith admirable, but she just couldn't muster enough to match it.

At Seviin's reply, Xiuyang tilted her head slightly toward her. If there had been any evidence of her skepticism before, it was gone now. If she'd stopped herself from crying the first time, she couldn't bear it anymore. She turned away, and if she let out a sound, it was so soft that it could have been the wind. She rested the back of one of her hands on her forehead, her teeth grit in frustration at her inability to hide her feelings.

"You have no idea..." She abandoned the thought before finishing it. "Everyone judges me, Seviin. They take one look and they judge me, and I let it happen because it's easier if they all expect nothing. But you—" She choked up. "You were right—about all of it. I'm always... doing my best..!" If there were more words, she couldn't produce them. She simply wept.

A hand reached out in the gathering darkness and its fingers found Xiuyang's. "If you truly wish to do good and make an effort, then I believe that you are good and that you will be loved for it." The yasoi's fingers closed around hers. "You can speak to me," she offered, "and I will listen... suunei."

"That's... all I want!" she choked out. "I just want them to appreciate my efforts, but it's never enough! Not for my father, not for the yasoi, not for the gods... not for me." Her voice trembled, as did she. "Only Ciro understands me... and you." She smiled lukewarmly. "...I want to help them, Seviin. I really do, but I... I don't know if I can. I just..." Her lip quivered. "I hate them. I hate their eyes—every time I look into an addict's eyes, I'm reminded of Juulet and Yarsoc. I'm reminded of—of what they would have done if they caught me. If I didn't run away... if I didn't..."

She squeezed Seviin's hand and forced out a breath. "I killed them. We—I killed all of them, Seviin. I didn't want to! I did nothing but try to help, but Juulet..." She stopped short of blaming her. "It's not fair," Xiuyang cried. "I don't deserve this! I can't talk to anyone about it. I don't know how to heal. I don't know what to do!" She sobbed. "Is this what I deserve?" She second guessed herself. "For breaking my oath..? Was it a test? Am I a failure? What else could I have done..? I don't..." She went silent as words failed to meet her lips.

Seviin's response was simple in the way that her speech often was. "If you struck first and did not have to, then I do believe that this is your penance." She swallowed. "If you did not, then it is your sense of guilt because you are a good person who did something you regret."

"Juulet is a bad person," she continued. "The world has made her that way and the only cure for it is likely her death." Seviin sat up abruptly, and brought her legs in crossed. The last hints of light lingered on the horizon and a mosquito hovered over the back of one of the yasoi's hands. Idly, she watched it land and allowed it to drink.

"I don't know!" Xiuyang agonized. "I can't know if my actions were necessary! All I can know is that pissing off Juulet set these events in motion." No matter how many times she ran what pieces she could recall through her mind, again and again she came up short. "I didn't try running. I knew he'd catch me." Silently, she cursed herself for being too weak to stop Juulet. If she could have just finished her off by the side of that lake, the rest of them would not have died, and she wouldn't be asking these questions. She'd have been free. ...Then, there was a spark. An idea occurred to her. "...Let's say... there was a timewalker who could see only the next ten seconds. Is it wrong if she strikes first, knowing the outcome to a near certainty if she doesn't?" Xiuyang composed herself, slowly, still not meeting Seviin's eyes as she rose.

She did, however, catch what she was doing. "Seviin, you have a... Those things spread plague, you know," she insisted, though not too strongly, perhaps because she was relatively detached from such a concern. If she showed interest in what she said about Juulet, she was leaving it on the back burner, much more interested in her hypothetical "barely a timewalker" question. In fact, it was the kind of question that seemed barely hypothetical. Xiuyang still hadn't told Seviin what happened, not directly at least. It seemed she hadn't told anyone.

Perhaps Seviin had pointedly ignored Xiuyang's main supposition; perhaps she was simply giving herself more time to think. "And we have Binding and Chemical magics." she shrugged. "Mother Oirase made it to do something and she makes nothing that is unnecessary." For some moments, the silence lingered, and the insect lifted off and flew away, its simple brain likely uncomprehending of its good fortune.

"I believe that you huusoi call that timeracer or perhaps foresight." Seviin furrowed her brow in momentary thought. "One has a right to defend oneself, but there are almost always ways other than dealing death, especially if one can see the future, no?"

"We have magics, but we're exceptional," Xiuyang reminded her reflexively. Then, she seemed to settle into giving it some more thought—and the more she thought about it, the more it seemed to unsettle her. There was, on one side of her heart, her oath, what she said, and what she believed that she believed: that killing was wrong. Then, on the other, there were her instincts, what she did in the heat of the moment, that showed her what she actually believed, deep in her unconscious: that those who harm and exploit others forfeited mercy. Consumed by her desire for justice for a crime not yet committed, she didn't even think about putting the man to sleep or using illusions to escape.

There was, on one side of the coin, the woman Xiuyang thought she was. Then there was the side of herself that had to be shown to her—and just as she supposed Seviin would if she knew, she wanted to hate it, but wasn't sure if she could. Did not all sapient beings know, instinctively, deep within their souls what was right and just and fair? Yet did not the wicked ignore the plea of their own soul for self-gain, to their own condemnation?

There were practiced killers on both sides of Xiuyang's family line. Was she doomed to become like them? But if Oirase made nothing unnecessary, was there a place in the world for people like that to be used for good? Yet if that were true, then there was also a place in the world for the yasoi that were killed in Yarsoc that day, and for the Cola family. Even if killing them had not been criminal, treating them like inhuman garbage surely was.

"Ten seconds," Xiuyang scoffed. "Is it too much power, or not enough?"

She went quiet for a moment, but it still seemed like she had more to say, so it passed in silence. "I don't consider it a trifling thing to owe a debt to the gods. I almost never pray, and when I pray, I pray for others, never for myself. The first time I did pray for myself, I prayed to Exiran. Before that, I'd hardly acknowledged Exiran's existence at all, but I asked if he would stay Juulet's hand, and he answered me right away. That's how... I know the gods are kind, Seviin. I just... it was hard not to feel abandoned in that place, and it's hard to feel worthy to ask for anything after what I've done. ...Would you pray for me, instead?"

Seviin sat there as crickets chirped and flies swirled about the tiny suns and moons of the hanging lanterns. She breathed, unblinking. "I pray for all," she replied. She nodded slowly. "But most especially for those who ask for it in earnest." She smiled softly and, in one smooth, limber motion, rose to her feet.

---

The Power to Become

---

---

Suddenly, Xiuyang felt the familiar embrace of an unwelcome presence.

"How pitiful. After all this time, you're still lying to yourself and everyone else."

Xiuyang waved a hand in front of Seviin's half-smiling face. It was as if time had stopped. Even in the context of the worst of her nightmares, this was a new experience. "What part of that was a lie? Besides, who invited you? This is a precious memory of mine. You should stay out of it!" she demanded of the disembodied voice.

Xiuyang felt the gravity of her presence before she saw her: a short, young girl with matted hair that was either a dark red or bloodied, Xiuyang couldn't tell. Most strikingly, the girl had no face. "Huh. That's a fitting look for the voice of my self-loathing."

"For a broken vessel, you sure are cheeky. To call this your 'precious memory...' You'll forget all of this when it becomes an inconvenient moral burden for you to bear later on—and, for a Quentic to not pray, even a heretic like yourself... How useless can you be? Just pray for Sipenta's future... Oh, but you can't. A future without war and death is a future where the Solari are no longer needed. Isn't that so?"

Unsettling as it was, Xiuyang glared determinedly at the blank face. "I can't dispute that my family profits from war. Even if I pursue medicine, that's still true."

"Right. So long as there's violence in this world, a Solari will have a place in it. But if conditions improve, there's no place for someone like you in Sipenta. A useless politician married to a plantation owner... an arms dealer married to a useless politician... and you, you'll marry a banker? For someone who's spent their whole life defining themselves by what they're not, you sure are turning out just like a Solari."

Unable to meet the girl's imperceptible gaze any longer, Xiuyang looked away. "It's who I am. I am a Solari... I can't outrun the passage of time, as Maria so often reminds us."

"So you do get it. Why fight it? Why rationalize? Watching you do that is exhausting. Just play out your role as a villain. It'll be fun. Who knows, maybe you'll even win. With Ciro at your side, you could mold this world to suit your own tastes. With Solari connections and Volta money, you two would be unstoppable. The puppet masters..."

Xiuyang scoffed and shook her head. "It wouldn't be like that. We'll do great things. We'll probably change the world, but molding it? I don't want that kind of power."

"So, walk me through this: you reject the role of villain, and accept that you don't have the power to take on the role of a hero. You had the chance to become a martyr, but instead, you killed a bunch of yasoi, which you regret."

Xiuyang looked down. "...I do. I don't blame myself anymore, but I wish I'd never... No. I'm glad I got the chance to meet Tyrel. I just wish I'd been strong enough to defeat Juulet."

"Right. So there are no more roles for you to play. You're just set dressing—a useless person, like your sister Desi. At least Maria gets things done. She's accepted the role of villain. She wears it well."

Xiuyang scowled. "She's not 'useless.' There are more roles than just heroes, villains, and martyrs. Everyone serves a purpose. Maybe you're just a terrible storyteller. Ever consider that angle?"

"I don't really care how your story plays out, so long as my purposes are fulfilled in the end."

"The ends justify the means, huh? History is littered with villains like that. Seems like I'm more qualified to be a hero than you." Xiuyang took a step towards the girl.

The girl stepped forward, too. "What will you do, then? Will you stand in my way as a hero, or as a villain?"

"I don't really care what 'role' I play, so long as things end well for me and mine." Xiuyang turned away and proceeded down the branch.

The girl followed, sliding across the ground like a shadow. "For someone with little to no sense of self to speak of, that's a pretty self-absorbed thing to say."

"Is it? I remember reading somewhere once... 'He who does not provide for his brothers, yea, especially of his own blood, his faith is of no consequence, and he is worse than an infidel.' Charity starts at home... that's not evil."

"Your 'family' are a bunch of criminals married to tyrants. They don't need the help. The greatest danger they face is betraying each other." Xiuyang was cornered, now.

"Maybe, but I have friends who need 'me.' Not some 'role' that I play. Rather... I'm a Solari. I can play any 'role' I want. I have the power to become anyone, and I'll become whoever Sipenta needs me to be, any time Sipenta needs me." With that, Xiuyang stepped off the Ever Tree.

But the shadow would not let Xiuyang escape. She floated down along with her. Time slowed, and the fall seemed to last an eternity. "You say you have 'the power to become whoever Sipenta needs?' Yet, you've used it as 'the power to cast off any role or burden which inconveniences me.' First, you were an Oraff loyalist who swore never to kill. Now, you're flirting with the idea of serving Eshiran, bringing anyone who threatens the future of your country and family to whatever kind of ruin is most expedient. It's not some 'god' you serve, but your own whims. You cannot have self-determination without a determined 'self.' One day, after you've tried on and cast off every mantle and creed, you'll reach the end of your life, this chapter of Sipenta's history will have ended, and there will be no more roles for you. What you'll find is that you have not become 'whoever Sipenta needed,' but 'nobody.' You'll lose whatever 'self' you had and be forgotten to history as a nameless and craven Scoundrel."

Some time passed. Then, finally, like a revelation, the ground met Xiuyang's feet. "...You know... I've been trying to justify my own existence by thinking of ways to leave some 'legacy,' but that's not right. If a Solari like me goes all out, always trying to do the most good using all of my power... it's only natural that a Facemimic won't leave a legacy. History will forget my existence... or at best, remember me as a collection of 'unidentified persons.' So... 'Nobody' will be my role. So long as the gods remember me and my deeds, I'll accept it." Xiuyang gazed up at the starry sky, laid out exactly as she remembered it.

"You're saying you accept it? You're just going to give up on leaving a legacy?"

The stars reflected in Xiuyang's eyes. "It's not as if I'll be totally forgotten. Just as my ancestors passed down their stories of life in ReTan... If I live long enough, my children will remember what I did. My friends and their children will know it, too. Though they'll just be 'stories,' and not 'history...' my grandmother's 'stories' are, in a very real sense, the 'true history' of ReTan, unadulterated by politically convenient half-truths. Even if a day comes when those stories are no longer told, that matters more than a name in some cobbled-together 'history book.' It's overrated. ...It's funny... I idolized the idea because I spent so much time reading history—but now that history is happening now, it doesn't seem so important anymore."

"I can't follow that train of thought at all. Then again, you'll eventually change your mind and give up on this, too."

"Maybe I'll just become someone who's 'determined' like you said. What I do know is that I'll never cast off my friends. I'm thankful for all of them. None of them are burdens, or 'unnecessary...' right?" Xiuyang looked back up towards the Ever Tree. She thought of Seviin, who taught her this lesson, and of Ashon, who embodied it.

"Your words can't reach them here."

"I'd like to think that they did, somehow or other."

"That's just your incomprehensible fantasy."

"Huh. A devil that doesn't believe in miracles. Is that fitting, or ironic?"

The girl watched as Xiuyang faded away, escaping the nightmare.

"...I suppose 'Nobody' is a fitting role for a broken vessel. But, what will you do? You have friends on every side of this conflict. You think you can end it without losing most of them? When you do, you'll come crawling back with another lame excuse, I'm sure. Your 'Gift' is strong, but your 'heart' is weak. You think you can escape this nightmare you created? Just try it. You'll be back."

The nightmare flickered and fizzled out. Then, it was erased, and forgotten by Xiuyang.

But, though it was erased, it remained, like a faded stain.

---

Esparza Estate - Torragon

Home... Xiuyang blinked her eyes awake, then cast them about the familiar scenery. Familiar, and yet, how surreal it all was. Only the finest luxuries for a daughter of Esparza and Solari. Ciro had reacquainted her with a taste for such things. So why, here, did she not care for it? Why did it all feel so fake? Because when Ciro spoils me, it feels deserved. He appreciates me. We work together to earn those moments. Her own thoughts answered her. She couldn't help but be surprised at the positivity of the first thought that came to mind—like some kind of poison had left her body. And it's not alcohol for once. What did I dream about? I do feel like Seviin was there... It's like I had the best sleep of my life.

A gentle knock came at the door. Nary a moment's peace... "Wait in the drawing room," she replied. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she set about applying her makeup. It had become somewhat of a routine. Some days saw more effort than others. Doing it here brought back some memories, much of which were unpleasant. She scowled into the mirror. Then, she pouted. Then, she smiled. The smile felt a bit less fake. She leaned back from the mirror, and found that what she saw didn't look so bad. Then, she took a small step back. Then, another step back. The scars are almost invisible from here. I could have gone thicker with the makeup, too. Is this how everyone sees me? I never realized... On a whim, she blew a kiss at herself in the mirror. Immediately, she was embarrassed. Ugh! I'm feeling all mushy. It's like I've found a whole new way to be disgusted with myself. Lucky me.

Hastily, she gathered her lost marbles and walked back to the bedroom door. There, she paused, in front of the emblem of her family: a falcon with a snake in its talons—a hypocritical symbol if ever there was one. My goals haven't changed. The nature of a Solari's work and methods haven't changed. The only thing that's changed is how I think of it. Rather than 'being forgotten as nobody,' I have 'the power to become nobody.' One label is 'deserved,' while the other is 'earned.' If I worked hard to achieve it, I can be satisfied with it, even if it's not a 'legacy.' My achievements are mine—even if I wear the faces of others, no one can take them from me.

...

Don't you see, father? The answer was right in front of you. You wanted to change the status quo... It wasn't your ideals that held you back, but your obsession with being recognized for it. That is where you failed... and it's why I will be better than you. Just watch me...

---

Xiuyang took a seat across from her Torragonese contact. "What is it?"

The man retrieved a binder full of documents and placed it on the table. "Paydirt," he replied simply.

He had no knowledge of the deeper meaning behind the word.

"Well done. I'll attend to these at once. Continue your work."