Chapter 16: The Work of a Magical Girl

To be perfectly, brutally, and with a mounting sense of dread, honest—the actual, day-to-day work of a bona fide magical girl is incredibly, almost inhumanly busy. Especially when you, against your better judgment and every instinct for self-preservation, actually try to focus and do your assigned job diligently. You quickly, horrifyingly discover that the work is fundamentally, overwhelmingly, despairingly endless. There’s always another fiend to pulverize, another mind-numbing PR disaster to mitigate, another soul-selling merchandise signing to endure, another ridiculously frilly outfit to be squeezed into. It’s a nightmare.

For instance, right at this very moment, after Magical Girl Black had rather reluctantly (and with much internal, profanity-laced grumbling) informed the ever-smirking organization of her… begrudging willingness… to take on a few more responsibilities, she immediately saw a disturbingly triumphant, almost villainous, cat-that-got-the-canary smirk spread across the General Manager’s perfectly made-up face. The kind of smirk that usually preceded a mountain of impossible paperwork or a one-way ticket to a suicide mission.

That feeling… it was almost as if—as if her recent, unfortunate, and deeply traumatic "optimization" (i.e., getting unceremoniously fired from her soul-crushing, underpaying corporate job) was somehow, insidiously and almost certainly connected to this manipulative, garter-stocking-wearing woman. The thought made Black clench her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, a sudden, violent and uncontrollable urge to punch that smug, self-satisfied smirk right off the manager’s face washing over her in a wave of pure, unadulterated rage. But, in the end, with a monumental effort of will that deserved a medal, she restrained herself. After all, she was, at least on paper, a (mostly) rule-abiding, reasonable individual. And without concrete, irrefutable proof, she couldn’t just go around randomly assaulting her superiors, no matter how deeply, profoundly satisfying it might feel in that exact moment. Probably. Most likely. Ugh, fine.

And then, as surely as night follows day, and as inevitably as a gacha game drains your wallet, she was immediately, catastrophically inundated with a veritable deluge of new, often bizarre, and universally humiliating assignments).

For example, today, her primary task was to go to a fancy, soundproof recording studio and provide a dedicated, fully immersive voice pack for her own ridiculously popular character in the equally ridiculously popular (and wallet-devouring) mobile game, "Magical Girl Brawl." Previously, the in-game character of Magical Girl Black had only utilized a few awkwardly clipped, mostly unintelligible voice lines—mostly grunts, battle cries, and the occasional muttered curse—crudely and almost offensively extracted from her actual, life-or-death combat footage. But now, with this new, "exciting" initiative, they could create a complete, professionally produced, and probably deeply embarrassing voice pack. And, by integrating it with the latest cutting-edge, possibly sentient AI technology, players could even, theoretically, romance the fearsome Magical Girl Black within the game. The sheer, unmitigated horror! My likeness! My voice! Used for… for virtual dating?! This is a violation of my human rights! Probably!

In all honesty, this was a contract that Black—Kenji Tanaka, the forty-something-year-old man trapped inside—was deeply, profoundly, existentially reluctant to sign. After all, even though it was "just a game," the thought of millions of people, mostly hormonal teenage boys probably, having a cute, chibi version of herself on their phones, cooing at it, tapping it, possibly even… doing unspeakable, lewd things to it… it made her skin crawl with a mixture of disgust and existential dread. She considered herself at heart, a rather conservative, old-fashioned kind of individual. This was all a bit much. Far too much.

But… but the money they were offering… it was just too damn good to refuse. Curse my weak, materialistic soul!

A full sixty million yen for the endorsement fee! Sixty million! Just for a stupid voice pack! She remembered, with a fresh wave of bitter, indignant resentment, that her entire week-long, soul-destroying, physically exhausting concert tour had only netted her a measly, almost insulting 14,000,000 yen! And now, just for reading a few cringe-inducing lines into a microphone in an air-conditioned studio, she was getting sixty million yen! Could money, actual, spendable money, truly come this easily? Was this what it felt like to sell your soul to the corporate devil? It felt… surprisingly lucrative.

So, whether you called it being insidiously seduced by the irresistible allure of vast wealth, or a complete and utter, shameless abandonment of all personal dignity and moral principles, Miss Magical Girl Black ultimately, inevitably, and with a heart heavy with shame (and a little bit of avarice), bowed down to the tyrannical, all-powerful, and incredibly persuasive power of cold, hard cash. She signed the relevant, probably soul-binding contracts for the voice pack, a single, glistening tear (of shame? of joy? of sheer, unadulterated greed?) rolling dramatically down her cheek.

“This… this kind of disgustingly saccharine line… do I really, truly have to say this out loud?! Into a microphone?! For posterity?! Are you people sadists?!”

It’s worth mentioning, for context, that today was a weekend. Ren had heard, through the high school grapevine (which was surprisingly efficient), that Hana had originally, tentatively, made plans for a romantic date with him. But alas, cruel fate had intervened! Hana, being the popular, socially active girl she was, had already, irrevocably promised her gaggle of friends that she’d go on an epic shopping spree with them. Although Ren was, arguably, and in Hana’s own often-stated opinion, significantly more important to her than almost anyone else on the planet, Hana wasn’t the type of person to casually break a promise once it was made, especially not to her besties. So, with a sigh of genuine regret (and perhaps a few secretly shed tears on Ren’s part, though he’d deny it to his dying day), she had tragically, heroically declined his heartfelt, carefully planned invitation for a romantic, hand-holding, ice-cream-sharing date. The agony! The injustice!

Of course, since her precious daughter, Hana, wasn’t going on a date with Ren (a fact that filled her with a shameful, un-fatherly sense of relief), Black had, without a single moment’s hesitation, or even a shred of lingering guilt, immediately and almost gleefully shanghaied the poor, unsuspecting Ren and dragged him along to the terrifying recording studio. After all, he was her official, duly appointed Supporter; her work, however demeaning, was, by definition, his responsibility too. He had signed a contract, hadn't he? Besides, it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting paid handsomely for his troubles and his emotional support. To put it rather bluntly, and perhaps a little cynically, for this kind of high-profile, lucrative endorsement contract, it was pretty standard practice for the organization to also generously bestow upon the involved, long-suffering Supporter some kind of… substantial gift… or hefty bonus, as a token of their sincere appreciation for services rendered (and an effective way to ensure their continued silence and cooperation). So, really, if you think about it, he should be down on his knees, thanking me for this incredible opportunity. The ungrateful brat.

“Now, now, Miss Black, please try to remain calm. These lines, of course, all need to be read out loud, with appropriate emotion and conviction,” Ren said soothingly, trying his best to comfort the clearly distressed, almost apoplectic magical girl before him. He sounded like a patient kindergarten teacher trying to coax a particularly stubborn toddler into eating their vegetables. “They’re just some… harmless… lines from a script, that’s all. Just think of it like when your favorite teacher asks you to read a particularly inspiring passage from a classic textbook in class. It’s a learning experience! There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, really. It’s all part of the job. For the fans!” He was trying his best to be supportive, to be professional, but even he had to admit, some of these lines were… a bit much. Even for a magical girl game.

Magical Girl Black stared, with an expression of pure, unadulterated horror, at the offending script clutched in her trembling hand. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, were fixated on a particularly egregious, diabetes-inducing line: “You… you are my number one, my most precious treasure, my everything, in this whole wide, sparkly world, my darlingest darling~❤.” She simply, physically, couldn’t bring herself to utter such saccharine, soul-withering, embarrassing nonsense. It was an affront to her very being. In her previous, mundane life as Kenji Tanaka, salaryman extraordinaire, she had always looked down on actors with a certain smug, intellectual disdain, foolishly thinking their job was just a simple, brainless matter of striking a few dramatic poses, shedding a few crocodile tears, and reciting a couple of pre-written lines. Easy peasy. But now, now, with these disgustingly sweet, vomit-inducing words physically stuck in her throat, stubbornly, defiantly refusing to come out no matter how hard she tried, she finally, finally, with a dawning, crushing sense of humility, realized that being an actor, even a lowly voice actor for a predatory gacha game, was not nearly as easy or as glamorous a profession as she had once so arrogantly, so ignorantly assumed. It required a level of shamelessness, a dedication to the craft, that she simply, tragically, did not possess.

She just felt like the words, those horrible, sugary words, were physically lodged in her throat, a giant, fluffy, pink marshmallow of pure, concentrated cringe, stubbornly, maliciously refusing to be dislodged, no matter how much she coughed or cleared her throat. It was torture.

Seeing her face turn a brilliant, almost alarming shade of crimson from the sheer, Herculean effort of not saying the lines (and possibly from oxygen deprivation), Ren, ever the resourceful Supporter, thought for a moment, a concerned frown on his face. Then, with a reassuring smile, he said to Black, “Alright, Miss Black, I can see this is causing you some… slight discomfort. Why don’t you just take a deep breath, relax, and wait here for a moment? I’ll go have a little chat with the production staff, see if we can perhaps… negotiate a mutually agreeable change in the script? Maybe something a little less… effusive? More in line with your established badass persona?”

“Ah… y-yes! Please! For the love of God, please! Thank you! You’re a lifesaver, kid! My sanity thanks you!” Black stammered, immensely, pathetically grateful for this temporary reprieve.

Ren then scurried off, like a brave little soldier heading into battle, to negotiate with the stone-faced, deadline-driven, and probably highly caffeinated production staff. After about half an hour of intense, hushed, and undoubtedly very stressful negotiations (which probably involved a lot of complex charts, graphs, and desperate pleading from Ren, and a lot of exasperated sighs and eye-rolling from the beleaguered staff), Ren finally returned, looking slightly frazzled but triumphant.

“So? How did it go? Did they see reason? Did they agree to change those horrible lines?” Black asked, her eyes wide with a desperate, almost childlike, hopeful anticipation. Please tell me they changed it to something cool and badass! Like, ‘Prepare to die, fiend scum!’ or ‘My power is absolute!’ Anything but ‘darlingest darling’!

Ren’s expression was somewhat… bitter, like he’d just swallowed a very sour lemon. “Well, Miss Black, after much… spirited… discussion, the absolute most they’re willing to concede, the furthest they’ll bend, is to change the line ‘You are my number one, my everything, in this whole wide, sparkly world, my darlingest darling~❤’ to… ah… ‘I… I guess I like you the best, you know! B-baka! Teehee~❤’.”

Black stared at him, aghast. “That’s not a change at all! That’s practically the exact same damn thing, just with fewer words and an added, even more infuriating ‘teehee’! There is absolutely NO WAY, not in this lifetime or the next, that I am ever going to say a line like ‘I like you the best, you know! Teehee~❤’! Absolutely not! Not even if they offer me another sixty million! Over my cold, dead, and hopefully un-sparkly body!”

Just as she finished her furious, indignant, and rather loud declaration, Magical Girl Black saw a sly, knowing smile spread slowly across Ren Akiyama’s usually earnest face. And then, to her dawning, unspeakable horror, she noticed that Ren, that treacherous little brat, seemed to be wearing some kind of small, incredibly discreet, and very professional-looking recording device clipped to his collar, cleverly hidden beneath the lapel of his jacket. It was blinking with a tiny, malevolent red light.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and betrayal. “You… you little conniving weasel! You tricked me?! You were secretly recording that whole time?! That was a setup!”

“Oh, this old thing? It’s just a simple, high-fidelity, omnidirectional audio recording device, Miss Black. Standard Supporter issue. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about~” Ren said with an innocent, almost angelic smile that didn’t quite reach his suddenly very shrewd eyes. “After all, your character’s official, fan-approved personality setting in ‘Magical Girl Brawl’ is clearly, unequivocally listed as ‘Classic Tsundere,’ isn’t it? That last line you just delivered, with such raw, unadulterated passion and hilariously indignant conviction? It was absolutely perfect! A masterpiece! Chef’s kiss, even! The fans, especially the ones who appreciate authentic tsundere performances, will absolutely adore it! Perhaps you could give us a few more takes just like that one? You do understand the subtle, complex nuances of being a proper tsundere, don’t you, Miss Black? That delightful, heartwarming blend of outward hostility and secret, fiercely guarded, hidden affection?”

“I AM NOT A TSUNDERE!!!! AND I AM DEFINITELY, ABSOLUTELY NOT CUTE!!!! GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL, YOU OVERANALYTICAL BRAT!!!” Magical Girl Black roared, her face now an even more spectacular, almost thermonuclear shade of crimson. If looks could kill, Ren would be a pile of smoldering ash.

“Yes! That’s it! That’s the spirit! That’s exactly the authentic flavor we’re looking for! Pure tsundere gold!” Ren exclaimed, practically bouncing with professional delight, already mentally calculating the bonus he was going to get for this stroke of genius. This is going to be a viral voice line! I’m a genius!

Correction: Magical Girl Black is not, in fact, a true, bona fide, textbook tsundere character. Not even close. After all, if she were a genuine, archetypal tsundere, at this point, she would probably have already, out of sheer, mortified, all-consuming embarrassment, accidentally (or perhaps quite intentionally) blown up the entire recording studio. And possibly the surrounding city block. With extreme prejudice.

But Black, being the pragmatic (and underneath all the rage, secretly quite professional, and also, let’s face it, rather tired) magical girl that she was, wouldn’t do that. Probably. After fuming, seething, and silently plotting Ren’s slow and painful demise in at least seventeen different ways for a short, but intensely therapeutic while, she eventually, with a sigh that could wither flowers and curdle milk, just deflated like a punctured balloon and said, her voice flat, hollow, and utterly devoid of all life, all hope, all joy, “Fine. Whatever. Just… just get it over with. What’s the next goddamn line I have to record?” Her eyes… her eyes looked completely, utterly dead, like those of a fish that had been out of water for far, far too long. The legendary, soul-weary dead fish eyes of utter, complete resignation. This was her life now. Saying cutesy lines for a gacha game. Her ancestors were probably weeping.

However, it had to be said, Ren Akiyama, that clever little bastard, truly did complete his assigned work with outstanding and almost terrifying efficiency and skill. The final, painstakingly edited recorded voice pack, after much finessing, strategic bleeping of curses, and probably a little bit of digital autotune and sweetening, turned out so incredibly well that everyone involved, from the notoriously demanding producers to the perpetually skeptical sound engineers, was thoroughly satisfied. This, surprisingly, piqued Black’s morbid curiosity a little. “Hey, kid,” she said, her voice still rough with residual annoyance, her curiosity getting the better of her innate desire to punch him. “I heard this ridiculously embarrassing voice pack of mine is going to be an actual in-game purchase. How much are those greedy, bloodsucking corporate overlords planning to sell it for, anyway? Just out of curiosity.”

“Well, Miss Black, considering it’s your genuine, real-life, and soon-to-be-legendary voice pack,” Ren explained patiently, already consulting his ever-present data-slate, “and given your current… unique… and rapidly escalating popularity among certain… discerning… fanbases, I heard that the last time the beloved Strawberry Sweetheart released a similar premium voice pack, it was priced at around thirty thousand yen. Yours, as a newer, though arguably more… niche… magical girl, will probably be a little cheaper. Maybe twenty thousand yen or so? Perhaps 19,999 for marketing purposes, since you’re still technically a rookie…”

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?! TWENTY THOUSAND YEN?! FOR A FEW STUPID LINES OF DIALOGUE?! Who in their right mind, which certifiable lunatic, would actually buy something like that for that much money?! It’s just… it’s just me saying embarrassing things! This is robbery! Daylight robbery!” Magical Girl Black exclaimed, utterly, completely scandalized by the sheer audacity of such predatory monetization.

Ren just smiled, a serene, almost pitying smile. “Miss Black, Strawberry Sweetheart’s voice pack? It sold over ten million copies. Worldwide.”

Black’s brain simply… short-circuited. It ceased all higher functions. She went completely, utterly, beautifully catatonic. Such simple, yet devastating, calculations—it was just a matter of adding a few zeros to 30000, right? Eight tiny, insignificant, world-shattering zeros, that’s all. Child’s play for a man of his intellect.

A full thirty billion yen?! From a voice pack?! From saying cutesy things?!

Her voice, when she finally managed to make a sound, was a strangled, incredulous whisper. “The… the sixty million yen they’re paying me for this… this soul-selling abomination… it suddenly seems a little… low, doesn’t it? Like, criminally, insultingly, lawsuit-ably low?”

“Hmm… well, you see, Miss Black,” Ren explained patiently, like he was talking to a particularly slow child, “the vast, VAST majority of the profits, the real big, juicy, Scrooge McDuck swimming pool full of bucks, all go directly to the coffers of the organization. They own the intellectual property, after all. Your voice, your likeness as Magical Girl Black, it’s all theirs, contractually speaking. And besides,” he added, “you still have that… ah… rather significant, lingering risk of unexpected, city-destroying Inversion. So, they’re also, technically, taking on a certain amount of considerable financial and public safety risk by even using your potentially unstable voice pack in their flagship, family-friendly gacha game. That’s the official, very reasonable reason they gave, anyway.”

Magical Girl Black stared at Ren, her eyes narrowed into dangerous, suspicious slits. “And fighting for a better, more equitable deal for me in this blatant instance of corporate exploitation, isn’t that supposed to be your goddamn job as my dedicated Supporter, you little twerp?! Don’t you dare tell me you accepted some kind of sleazy bribe from them! A kickback! Did they offer you a free SSR pull?!”

Ren immediately threw his hands up in a gesture of innocent, almost wounded surrender. “Hey, now! Don’t look at me with such accusation in your eyes! It’s not my fault! You have to actually inform me of these critical contractual matters before you impulsively sign on the dotted line, Miss Black! By the time I received the official notification about this voice pack deal from on high, you had apparently already, with great enthusiasm (or so they claimed), signed, sealed, and delivered the legally binding contracts… Our internal communication protocols clearly, desperately still need some serious, urgent improvement! Although I did valiantly try to go back and renegotiate with them earlier, after you so eloquently expressed your… concerns… they just smugly pointed to the signed contract and essentially told me to take a hike. My hands were tied, unfortunately. Legally speaking.”

It was me! It was all my own stupid fault! I was the one who was blinded by greed! Seduced by the paltry, insulting sum of a mere sixty million yen! I’ve been played for an absolute, complete fool! 

Magical Girl Black sank dramatically to her knees, clutching her head in theatrical, agonizing, almost Shakespearean despair.

However, after a few suitably dramatic moments of intense, existential wallowing in her own fiscal ineptitude, she managed, with a Herculean effort, to pull herself together. Wait a minute, she thought, a flicker of her old, pragmatic, salaryman self returning with a vengeance. When did I become so unbelievably, disgustingly greedy that even this enormous amount of money isn’t enough for me anymore? This was still a huge, life-changing sum of money, more than Kenji Tanaka had ever dreamed of earning in a single year. I really can’t afford to be too greedy. I must maintain perspective. And maybe hire a better financial advisor.

Speaking of which, that Akari Natsume—or rather, the girl behind the Strawberry Sweetheart persona—she really was quite the little independently wealthy heiress, wasn’t she! No wonder she’d so casually claimed that all her money was self-earned. As a magical girl who had, almost unbelievably, debuted at the tender, innocent age of nine, the sheer, mind-boggling amount of wealth she must have accumulated by now, after years of successful fiend-fighting and lucrative endorsements, was almost unimaginable. The magical girl industry, with all its associated merchandising, media tie-ins, and devoted fanbases, was a veritable, unstoppable gold mine!

“Okay, moving on. I’ve reviewed your upcoming schedule for the next few days, Miss Black,” Ren said, smoothly pulling her back to the grim reality of her workload, his data-slate already displaying a dizzying array of appointments. “This afternoon, it seems there’s a rather popular, prime-time variety show that has extended an invitation for you to be a special guest. I’ve done some preliminary background research on the program, and it appears the appearance fee they’re offering is, at most, around twenty million yen. However,” he added, his tone becoming slightly more cautious, “it could be a very good opportunity to accumulate some much-needed positive publicity and significantly increase your mainstream popularity. But,” he warned, a note of concern in his voice, “these kinds of live variety shows can sometimes ask rather… troublesome… or uncomfortably personal questions. If you don’t answer them well, if you have another on-air meltdown, you could very easily get mercilessly flamed online by angry netizens and anti-fans. It’s a high-risk, high-reward situation.” He quickly scrolled through the seemingly endless list of other potential jobs and promotional opportunities the organization had optimistically, or perhaps sadistically, pushed their way. Fortunately, most of these were entirely optional; it was all up to whether Black herself, in her infinite wisdom (or lack thereof), was willing to accept them.

“Finally, Miss Black, there’s a rather significant offer for a full-blown anime adaptation based on your heroic, if somewhat terrifying, exploits. They require your official authorization and likeness rights, of course. And, if at all possible, they’d also very much like to offer you the primary voice acting role for your own character in the show. Which, given your earlier performance, might be… interesting.” Ren coughed delicately. “However, the initial remuneration for this particular animation project is comparatively quite low, almost insultingly so. If the anime doesn’t become a massive, runaway international hit, I wouldn’t really recommend you take it on, Miss Black. It would be an incredibly time-consuming and emotionally draining endeavor for relatively little immediate financial reward. If it does somehow become a huge, unexpected hit, however, then the potential royalties from streaming, Blu-ray sales, and global merchandising opportunities could be absolutely astronomical. Similarly, there are also numerous other requests for a dedicated Magical Girl Black light novel series, a line of action figures, collaboration plushies, themed bento boxes… Do you… do you want to accept all of these offers, Miss Black? Are you planning to become a global media franchise overnight?”

Hold on a bloody minute! Hey! HEY! Black thought, her mind reeling once again from the sheer, overwhelming absurdity of it all. I know that the actual, day-to-day work of a magical girl, once you really, truly get into the thick of it, can be a lot… a whole damn lot… but isn’t this all stuff that actual, real-life, honest-to-goodness celebrities and manufactured pop idols do? When the organization first, deceptively, recruited me, I distinctly, vividly remember them saying that my primary, fundamental mission was to subjugate fiends, protect the innocent, and maintain the hard-won peace and safety of this goddamn city! So, I ask you again, WHERE ARE ALL THE DAMN FIENDS?! I signed up for punching, not product placement!

“Subjugating fiends is, of course, a primary, non-negotiable duty of a magical girl, Miss Black,” Ren explained patiently, as if reciting from a well-rehearsed script. “However, you must understand that there are also other, less… marketable… Espers capable of handling such routine threats. In fact, S-City, as you may or may not be aware, has been actively, aggressively cultivating its public image as a premier ‘Magical Girl Holy Land’ for the past few years. A tourist destination, even! What you need to understand, Miss Black, is that primarily due to Miss Strawberry Sweetheart’s incredibly effective, highly visible, and relentlessly positive public relations activities, most other Espers currently residing in S-City who wish to engage in active, frontline superheroics usually have to travel to other, less fortunate, more fiend-infested cities to find actual work. There just aren’t enough fiends to go around here anymore, thanks to her. Supply and demand, you see. And now, with you also on the scene, Miss Black, with your… unique… and terrifying reputation, I imagine that most sensible fiends will be even more hesitant to launch any major, city-threatening attacks on S-City. It’s quite possible that, in the near future, either you or Miss Strawberry Sweetheart, or perhaps both of you as a dynamic duo, might be officially requested by the Hero Association to provide essential support and much-needed assistance to other, less fortunate, and significantly more fiend-ridden sectors. Think of it as an away game.”

What?! There’s actually such a thing?! They’re outsourcing magical girls now?! This is… this is completely, utterly beyond my wildest expectations! It seemed that being a superhero, a magical girl no less, wasn’t the straightforward, fiend-punching meal ticket everyone could easily cash in on. And a "Magical Girl Holy Land," huh… That Strawberry Sweetheart kid… she really was something else, wasn’t she? Truly, terrifyingly incredible. And probably obscenely rich. I need a raise.

......

“My Queen, the comprehensive data retrieval and psychological profile on the subject known as Magical Girl Black has been successfully completed. All parameters analyzed. If you wish to make your move, to initiate the operation, we are ready at any time. Your will is our command.” A man with an unnervingly slender, almost skeletal frame, his voice a sibilant whisper, appeared silently, like a wraith, before the enigmatic, eternally regal Darkmoon Queen.

“Excellent.” A cold, dangerously satisfied smile touched the Queen’s perfectly sculpted lips. Her eyes gleamed with a dark, predatory light. “This time, my loyal servants, we cannot, we will not, afford to repeat the same foolish, costly mistakes we made with that irritating pest, Strawberry Sweetheart. As it stands now, Strawberry Sweetheart, through sheer luck and an infuriating amount of plot armor, has grown into a magical girl who is almost impossible to defeat by conventional means. Even I, in all my power, cannot guarantee absolute victory against her current, ridiculously powered-up state. If we allow this new upstart, this ‘Magical Girl Black,’ to reach a similar level of uncontrollable power, then we might as well permanently, shamefully withdraw all our glorious operations from S-City and concede defeat! Unacceptable! Therefore, for this upcoming, decisive strike, we will deploy our full, unadulterated, overwhelming power! I myself will personally engage Strawberry Sweetheart and keep that pink-haired annoyance occupied. You, my elite operatives, will focus your entire, undivided efforts on Magical Girl Black. Mobilize the entire, terrifying strength of our glorious Darkmoon Coven! Show absolutely no mercy! Eradicate her! Utterly! Completely! For the glory of the shadows!”

“Your sacred will shall be done, my magnificent Queen.” The slender, shadowy man bowed deeply, his voice filled with zealous devotion, then melted back into the oppressive darkness from whence he came.

At that very moment, blissfully unaware of the dark machinations unfolding in the city’s underbelly, Hana Tanaka was strolling cheerfully down a bustling, sun-drenched city street, surrounded by a giggling, chattering gaggle of her equally cheerful friends.

“Hey, Hana-chan! If you’re hanging out with us today, all day long, won’t your precious, ever-so-devoted Ren-kun get just a little bit jealous?” one of her more mischievous, pixie-like friends teased, nudging her playfully in the ribs.

Hana rolled her eyes good-naturedly, a playful smirk on her lips. Then, adopting an overly sweet, almost cloyingly saccharine tone, she replied with mock concern, “Oh dear, oh dear, my little sister, are you perhaps ever so slightly worried that your darling Oniichan won’t like you anymore? How tragic for you!”

“Eek!!! Oh my god, you’re so totally gross, Hana! Stop it right now! That’s not fair!” the girl shrieked, though she was laughing, her usual playful, energetic demeanor returning in full force. She was Hana’s best friend, a sharp-witted, surprisingly insightful young girl named Tamao Suzuki. A rather literary-minded individual who often sported cute, round-framed glasses that gave her an air of studious intelligence, she nevertheless possessed a vibrant, almost infectious youthful energy that could rival Hana’s own.

They had invited Hana out today primarily because her birthday was just around the corner, a momentous occasion that demanded proper celebration. They were secretly, and with much giggling and elaborate planning, scheming to throw a surprise birthday celebration for her, since her actual birthday unfortunately fell on a boring, exam-filled school day. This weekend outing, therefore, was meant to be an early, pre-birthday reconnaissance mission, and also a chance to shower Hana with affection (and possibly extract valuable information about her current wish list).

“I bet your darling Ren-kun is secretly, like, totally planning a super romantic, over-the-top birthday surprise for Hana right now as we speak,” another girl in the group said with a sly, knowing wink, her voice filled with mock envy. “Oh, I’m so unbelievably jealous of you, Hana! You’re so lucky! I wish I had a devastatingly handsome, super smart, incredibly kind, and ridiculously sunny childhood friend who was also secretly, hopelessly in love with me! It’s just not fair!”

“Isn’t that, like, a few too many flattering adjectives you’re throwing around in there?” Hana laughed, though her cheeks were a delightful shade of tell-tale pink.

“Hey, speaking of which, Hana-chan,” Tamao piped up again, a wicked, mischievous glint in her eye, “since you’re, like, a super powerful, totally amazing Esper and all, can’t you, you know, use your awesome magic to whip up some… interesting… party favors? For your birthday bash? You know what I mean, right? Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.”

Hana blinked, then, seeing the unmistakably mischievous, knowing smirk on her best friend’s face, her own cheeks instantly turned a brilliant, almost incandescent shade of crimson. “I would never use my precious, sacred magic for that kind of indecent, perverted thing! What do you take me for, Tamao?! Honestly!”

“Ehhh? What did I say? I didn’t say anything indecent!” Tamao protested, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I was just innocently suggesting that you could, you know, conjure up some cool, harmless magic tricks or dazzling illusions for our entertainment! Like, a spectacular light show! Or maybe some adorable, talking animals! Honestly, Hana, where did your obviously dirty, corrupted mind go just now? You’re clearly the bad, perverted girl here, not me!” Tamao teased mercilessly, thoroughly enjoying Hana’s flustered state.

“TAMAO! I’m gonna totally get you for that! You just wait!” Hana shrieked, lunging playfully at her giggling friend.

The group of girls dissolved into peals of joyous, carefree laughter, their youthful, exuberant energy echoing brightly under the warm, sunny sky as they playfully chased each other down the crowded, vibrant street, completely oblivious to the shadows gathering around their beloved city.

Unseen, unheard, from a dark, fetid alleyway nearby, two shadowy, indistinct figures watched them with cold, predatory eyes.

“Such a beautiful, heartwarming, almost nauseatingly sweet sight, wouldn’t you agree? It almost makes one… nostalgic… for a time before all this incessant, irritating cheerfulness.”

“Indeed. It reminds me of my own carefree, blissfully ignorant youth, back before the… incident… that changed everything. Right, my dear Devouring Frog?”

“Quite right, my esteemed colleague, Burrowing Worm. Quite right, indeed. Let them enjoy their fleeting happiness. It will make their despair all the sweeter.”