Chapter 18: Not Yet Finished

Darkstar Count was, without a single, solitary shred of doubt, a formidable individual. A true powerhouse of the old guard.

As a veteran fiend, his unique power, under certain specific, fear-inducing circumstances, was practically, infuriatingly invincible. Unless one was faced with an ability that directly, specifically countered his own insidious fear-mongering, no one, absolutely no one, could lay a finger on him. He was a walking nightmare.

And the enigmatic, terrifying girl known as Magical Girl Black… she was fundamentally, categorically different from other, more conventional magical girls. The raw, untamed power she wielded was most definitely not derived from so-called "light," or "love," or any of that sentimental, heroic "justice" nonsense. Her brutally savage, almost feral fighting style, her utterly merciless, take-no-prisoners methods—there was no question about it in Darkstar Count’s mind: she possessed the undeniable, terrifying, almost beautiful potential to become a magnificent fiend herself. A true monster.

That being the undeniable case, Darkstar Count reasoned with cold, aristocratic, and slightly desperate logic, she can never, ever truly defeat me. Not as she is. Not as a ‘hero’.

Of course, Darkstar Count had absolutely no intention of dragging this confrontation out for too long. That would be foolish. Other Espers, other meddling heroes, would inevitably and annoyingly rush to the scene sooner or later. The organization’s higher-ups, those bureaucratic fools, had already confirmed his identity; they might, at this very moment, be attempting to mobilize Espers from other, far-flung districts, those with pesky abilities specifically designed to counter his own unique brand of terror. That would be… most troublesome. And inconvenient.

The Darkmoon Queen’s explicit, almost whimsical instruction had been to simply force Black into an Inverted state. Her Majesty had nonchalantly said that merely stalling for time, waiting patiently until certain other… delicate matters… had reached their inevitable, chaotic fruition, would be perfectly sufficient for their grand designs.

But Darkstar Count did not, in his heart of hearts, agree with that rather passive assessment. Not at all. He remembered, with a chilling, visceral clarity that still haunted his nightmares, their devastating, humiliating failure from years ago. He remembered, with a fresh surge of impotent rage, how they had held a massive and almost unassailable advantage, only to be utterly, catastrophically decimated when that insufferable pink pest, Strawberry Sweetheart, had somehow miraculously and impossibly managed to gain conscious control over her own terrifying Inverted mode. At that precise, horrifying moment, Strawberry Sweetheart had become a being of pure, unadulterated destructive power, capable of obliterating everything, everyone, in her path. The Darkmoon Queen, compared to that terrifying era, hadn’t fundamentally changed her core strategy; Her Majesty still craved, with an insatiable, almost perverse hunger, humanity’s collective despair and exquisite suffering.

But Darkstar Count had absolutely no desire, no stomach, to experience the agony, the humiliation, the sheer, crushing despair of that past defeat ever again. Never again.

Therefore, he would act decisively. Here and now, before she could awaken to her true, monstrous potential, he would directly, personally, kill Magical Girl Black. It was the only logical, sensible course of action.

Master the power of fear? He draws strength from fear itself?! Black realized in that terrifying, heart-stopping instant that this was a power she could not, in her current state, directly counteract. After all, she didn’t possess any kind of convenient, all-purpose "Sparkling Form" to magically dispel negative emotions. To fight this man, to have even a snowball's chance in hell of surviving… the only truly viable method… was to willingly, terrifyingly, Invert.

But… but entering an Inverted state meant she would lose all distinction between friend and foe. She would become a mindless engine of destruction. She had never attempted it before, never even… No! I can’t! Not with Ren nearby! Not with Hana…

With a sudden, desperate surge of adrenaline, she turned and fled, a black blur against the chaotic cityscape.

“Well, now! A magical girl actually running away?” Darkstar Count called after her, his voice dripping with condescending, aristocratic amusement. He sounded like a cat toying with a cornered mouse. “You’re the very first magical girl I’ve ever had the distinct displeasure of seeing actually attempt to flee from glorious battle! Aren’t you supposed to be the so-called ‘meta-defining, ridiculously overpowered, strongest-in-the-game’ character in that absurdly popular ‘Magical Girl Brawl’ app? Aren’t there even hushed, awed whispers in the fan forums that not even the mighty Strawberry Sweetheart is truly your match in a fair fight? And yet, you run? Like a common coward? Is this truly the full extent of your legendary, much-vaunted power? How… profoundly, utterly disappointing.”

Darkstar Count pursued her without a moment’s hesitation, a shadowy predator hot on her heels. His terrifying, fear-inducing attacks blanketed the area along their destructive path, sowing fresh waves of raw, primal terror in the hearts of the screaming, fleeing civilians below. A fiend as terrifying, as monstrously powerful as him… most ordinary people would go their entire, blissfully ignorant lives without ever witnessing such a horrifying, sanity-shattering spectacle.

Of course, engaging in a running battle through a populated area wasn’t Black’s true objective. Not at all. Her actual purpose, her desperate, underlying strategy, was actually quite clear, quite painfully simple, in Kenji Tanaka’s terrified, fatherly mind: she just wanted, more than anything in the world, to get away—far, far, far away—from Ren Akiyama.

That boy… he’s my precious daughter’s lover. Her future. I can’t let him die. Not for me.

What Ren Akiyama, in his earnest, youthful idealism, didn’t know was this: he believed the device that had been installed on him, the one supposedly linking his fate to Black’s, was a failsafe locator, designed so that if Black ever truly Inverted and lost control, he too would be immediately, mercifully eliminated alongside her, a shared, tragic fate. In reality, it was merely a decorative, completely non-functional trinket. A placebo. Black had privately, desperately contacted the organization, had practically begged and pleaded with them, and had eventually, through sheer, stubborn persistence, negotiated this crucial matter with them. After all, what absolute, overriding necessity was there for a young, promising Supporter to needlessly sacrifice his own life alongside a potentially unstable, rampaging Esper? It was madness. She could never, she would never, allow her beloved daughter’s future husband’s precious life to be so carelessly, so irrevocably bound to her own uncertain, terrifying existence. It was unthinkable.

If I’m to die today, if I’m to die as Magical Girl Black… then perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing after all. At least Hana would be safe. Ren would be safe.

Right here… this abandoned warehouse district… this should be far enough away from any civilians… Hopefully, if I do end up Inverting, if I completely lose it… I pray I don’t cause too much widespread, catastrophic damage. Please, God, if you’re out there…

And so, with a heavy, resigned heart, she abruptly, almost defiantly, stopped. She turned to face her pursuer.

Darkstar Count chuckled, a low, almost satisfied sound. “Oh? Giving up on running already, little magical girl? Have you finally accepted your inevitable fate?”

“I did consider, you know,” Black said, her voice surprisingly and almost unnervingly calm, a strange, detached smile playing on her lips, “if I were to somehow knock everyone in this entire city unconscious, all at once, would you then, I wonder, be unable to draw power from their collective fear? Would you become weak? Vulnerable?”

Darkstar Count’s aristocratic expression remained carefully, coolly unchanged, though a flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes. “An interesting hypothesis. And why didn’t you attempt such a… drastic… strategy, then, my dear?”

“Oh, I also considered,” Black continued, her smile widening, becoming almost… wistful, “whether, if I simply, brutally slaughtered everyone in the immediate vicinity, all those potential fear-batteries, would you then completely lose your power source? And could I then, with a single, satisfying punch, obliterate your smug, pretty face into oblivion? To be perfectly, brutally honest with you, I really, really wanted to do that. It sounded like a lot of fun. But, alas, what can I say?” She sighed dramatically, a picture of put-upon heroism. “I’m supposed to be a magical girl, aren’t I? A champion of justice. A protector of the innocent. I can’t very well go around doing barbaric things like that, now can I? It would be bad for my image. And the paperwork would be a nightmare.”

A genuine, almost appreciative smile finally, unexpectedly graced Darkstar Count’s pale, elegant features. “Yes! Precisely! Your thinking is remarkably, refreshingly correct, Black! If you were to simply, ruthlessly slaughter all the insignificant, sniveling humans nearby, you would indeed be able to defeat me with absolute, almost laughable ease! Magical Girl Black, the so-called ‘hero,’ can never, ever truly overcome your power. But if you were to embrace your true nature, if you were to become Fiend Black… ah, then perhaps even I would never dare to so brazenly appear before you ever again. You are, make no mistake, a natural-born fiend, Black! A creature of immense, beautiful darkness! You should be like us! You should become a magnificent, terrifying figure like the glorious Darkmoon Queen herself!”

“If I’m not mistaken, pretty boy,” Black said, her eyes narrowing, her voice suddenly sharp as ice, “your precious Darkmoon Queen is currently rather… preoccupied… trying to entangle the ever-so-annoying Strawberry Sweetheart. Your primary objective in coming here, your mission, was to force me to Invert—however, it seems you’ve decided to go off-script. You actually intend to kill me instead, don’t you? How… ambitious of you.”

“How surprisingly, delightfully astute, Black! You truly are far more intelligent, far more perceptive, than I initially gave you credit for!” Darkstar Count exclaimed, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. “You are not nearly as mindlessly, predictably frenzied as your rather crude outward appearance and boorish behavior might suggest. You understand perfectly, with crystal clarity, exactly what is happening right now, don’t you! So, tell me, my dear, what do you intend to do? I must confess, I don’t entirely dislike clever people, you know! Because clever people… clever people, more often than not, always make the correct, most rational choices!”

The smile on Magical Girl Black’s face deepened, becoming almost ferocious, predatory. She suddenly threw her arms wide, as if to embrace the very sky, a gesture of defiance and reckless abandon. “THEN COME AT ME, DARKSTAR COUNT! LET ME SEE YOUR TRUE POWER! YOUR REAL STRENGTH! USE YOUR FULL, UNADULTERATED MIGHT! IF YOU CAN SOMEHOW MANAGE TO KILL ME! OR IF YOU CAN ACTUALLY FORCE ME TO INVERT IN UNBEARABLE AGONY! THEN THAT, AND ONLY THAT, WILL BE A TRUE TESTAMENT TO YOUR POWER! BUT IF YOU FAIL! IF YOU CANNOT ACCOMPLISH EVEN THAT SIMPLE TASK! THEN YOU, MY PRETTY BOY FIEND, ARE UTTERLY, COMPLETELY, HOPELESSLY DOOMED!”

Her smile, in that moment, was so savage, so terrifyingly unhinged, that even though she still appeared, on the surface, as an undeniably cute, if somewhat gothic, young girl, Darkstar Count felt a sudden, involuntary shiver of profound, primal unease crawl down his aristocratic spine. He could not sense even the slightest, most insignificant hint of conventional cuteness or feminine charm in her demeanor now; there was only a raw, terrifying, exhilarating madness blazing in her eyes.

Several spheres of roiling, pitch-black energy coalesced rapidly around Darkstar Count, their surfaces crackling with malevolent power. Then, with a guttural snarl, they merged, condensing into a single, massive, pulsating pillar of pure, concentrated dark power. “SINCE YOU ARE SO EAGER FOR OBLIVION, THEN SO BE IT! DIE, MAGICAL GIRL BLACK! FAREWELL, AND MAY YOU ROT IN WHATEVER HELL AWAITS YOU!”

The colossal, all-consuming pillar of black light instantly, utterly, and with a deafening roar, engulfed Magical Girl Black!

......

Ah… so this… this is the true, inescapable essence of Darkstar Count’s power… or perhaps… this is just… the end…

Black felt herself falling, tumbling endlessly, weightlessly, into an infinite, pitch-black, suffocating abyss. She felt her consciousness, her will to fight, her very sense of self, sinking, fading away into the cold, indifferent darkness. But she knew, with a strange, detached, almost serene clarity, that she wasn’t quite dead yet. Not yet.

She suddenly, vividly, remembered the day, what felt like a lifetime ago, when she had first, inexplicably, transformed into a magical girl. That fateful day, she had dreamed, for the first time in years, of her beloved, long-departed wife.

And now, in this suffocating, inky blackness, in this void between worlds, the ethereal image of her wife, Kaoru Shirakawa, began to grow clearer, more distinct, more real than any memory. She watched silently, her heart aching with a familiar, bittersweet sorrow, as the beloved, longed-for figure solidified before her. A face so achingly, hauntingly similar to her own precious daughter’s.

“Kaoru…” she—Kenji—whispered the name, a sound filled with a longing so profound, so all-consuming, that it seemed to transcend the countless years of grief and loneliness. “Is it… is it because I missed you so much… is that why I somehow gained the power of Magical Girl Black? You were always ‘Shira-kawa’ (White), my light… and I… I suppose I became ‘Black’, your shadow…”

The beautiful, smiling figure did not respond to his desperate call. Of course not. How could she? She had been dead for so long now. A ghost. A memory.

“Hana… our Hana… she’s all grown up now, you know,” Black continued, her voice soft, almost a caress. “She has someone she loves, that boy Ren. He’s a good kid. She’ll be happy with him. I know she will. So, it’s… it’s okay for me to finally come and find you now, isn’t it, my love?” She looked at the silent, smiling image of Kaoru, a fragile peace settling over her weary soul. She was actually, surprisingly, almost grateful for this strange, chaotic, often humiliating time she’d spent as a magical girl. At least, during this bizarre, unexpected period, she had somehow managed to rediscover a part of herself, a strength, a passion, she thought had been lost forever, buried under years of corporate drudgery and parental responsibility. She had been able to live, to fight, to express herself in ways she truly, deeply wanted, no longer just the mundane, long-suffering, perpetually exhausted middle-aged corporate drone of her past, miserable life.

People had actually cheered for her—for him—as Black. People had worried about her. Some people, however bizarrely and misguidedly, had even, apparently, wanted to make her their waifu. (She still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but it sounded… popular?) She could feel their hopes, their desperate desires, their expectations, even now. The power of a magical girl, they said, was the power of hearts, of emotions. She could clearly feel, even in this dark, fading place, the desperate, fervent hopes of all those innocent people still trapped under Darkstar Count’s terrifying attack. They were silently, desperately pleading for Magical Girl Black to stand up, to fight back. They still hoped that Black could protect them. They still believed in her…

But Black—Kenji—was satisfied now. She was tired. So very, very tired.

For Magical Girl Black to die like this, heroically, sacrificially… perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing after all. A fitting end for a ridiculous existence. She was certain now, with a strange sense of calm, that she wouldn’t catastrophically Invert due to Darkstar Count’s fear-based power. So, did that mean the true power, the only power that could actually push her over the edge into that terrifying Inverted state, was actually Darkmoon Queen’s insidious influence? Or perhaps… something else entirely?

Her mission, her duty, as Kenji Tanaka, loving father and devoted husband, in this weary world, was already, finally, complete. Since impossible Esper abilities and magical girls existed in this world, then perhaps… perhaps the existence of heaven, of an afterlife where he could finally be reunited with Kaoru, wasn’t such a strange or unbelievable notion either?

She—no, he—Kenji Tanaka, should have gone to see his beloved Kaoru a long, long, long time ago. He was overdue.

A soft voice, Kaoru’s voice, echoed in the darkness, impossibly real. “Kenji Tanaka’s work may, perhaps, be done, my love. But Magical Girl Black’s work… her story… is not yet finished, is it?”

Magical Girl Black? But… but that’s just a power… a costume… a role I was forced to play… My real name… I am Kenji Tanaka…

“Moreover, my dearest idiot,” the ethereal voice continued, a hint of gentle amusement in its tone, “your work as Kenji Tanaka, as a father, is most certainly not yet finished either. Your precious daughter, our Hana, is in grave danger at this very moment. And what are you doing, just lying here, feeling sorry for yourself and giving up?”

Hearing those words, those beloved, chastising words, it was as if a bolt of pure, white lightning had flashed through the suffocating darkness of her mind, shattering her despair. Darkmoon Queen wanted her to become an Inverted monster. But Darkstar Count, that pretty-boy fool, was actively trying to kill her instead, to prevent that very outcome. So, how exactly had the cunning Darkmoon Queen herself planned to force her into that dreaded Inverted state? What was her true, underlying scheme?

Ah… Oh god… NO!

It’s Hana! She’s going to use Hana!

The instant she, Kenji Tanaka, father and magical girl, realized the horrifying, unpalatable truth of the Queen’s nefarious plan…

......

Back in the devastated concert venue, where the colossal pillar of black light had supposedly consumed Magical Girl Black, Darkstar Count, still preening from his apparent victory, suddenly sensed something terribly, fundamentally wrong. A new, even more terrifying pressure was building. And then… with dawning, incredulous horror… he saw it.

Something pitch-black, something infinitely darker, colder, and more terrifyingly potent than his own meticulously cultivated power of fear, was now actively, hungrily devouring his ultimate attack from within!

In just a few heart-stopping seconds, the colossal pillar of black light was consumed entirely, sucked into a swirling vortex of absolute nothingness. And when the oppressive darkness finally, grudgingly dissipated, Magical Girl Black stood there, seemingly unharmed. She looked… mostly unchanged. Her tattered Dress was still tattered. Her expression was still grim. But—something was definitely, undeniably, terrifyingly wrong. Different. Her aura… it was suffocating.

“Fear… the power of FEAR! Hahahaha!!! HAHAHAHA!!! So this is all it amounts to! How utterly, pathetically… delicious!” Black’s voice was different now, deeper, richer, laced with a chilling, almost predatory amusement that sent shivers of pure dread down Darkstar Count’s aristocratic spine. “The power of so-called ‘good’ magical girls supposedly comes from the noble, saccharine emotions of humankind, doesn’t it? Strawberry Sweetheart and her nauseatingly cheerful ilk, they draw their pathetic strength from people’s hopes, their flimsy sense of justice, their fleeting, fickle love! So why can’t I, Magical Girl Black, just like you, you fear-mongering little fiend, borrow, no, command power from the far more potent, far more reliable, and infinitely more entertaining emotion of pure, unadulterated FEAR in people’s hearts?” Dark, almost tangible shadows, darker than night itself, swirled and writhed around her hands, coalescing, adhering to her gleaming knuckle dusters, making them glow with an ominous, soul-chilling light.

“Darkstar Count, you pretty-boy fool,” she said, “you didn’t try to make me Invert. You actually, foolishly, tried to kill me. For that, for that tiny shred of misguided ambition, I’ll acknowledge you as… a man. A very stupid man, but a man nonetheless. So, I won’t kill you. Not today. But…” a slow, terrifying grin spread across her face, “this is going to hurt. A lot. For a very, very long time.”

The moment Darkstar Count, his mind reeling in terror, heard that final, chilling word, “time,” Black was already directly in front of him, a blur of impossible speed. Her terrifying, shadow-wreathed fist, moving faster than he could possibly track, taking less than 0.1 seconds, punched clean, brutally, through his abdomen, shattering his fiendish core with a sickening crunch.

“This much… you won’t actually die from this, will you, pretty boy?” Black mused, looking almost bored as she casually withdrew her fist. “Someone as… resilient… as you? Nah. I don’t particularly dislike your type, you know. You’re amusing, in a pathetic sort of way. So, just go spend some quality, soul-searching time in the deepest, darkest pit of the maximum-security Esper prison, reflecting on your many life choices, won’t you? And try not to drop the soap.”

With just one devastating punch… Human emotions were indeed the source of a magical girl’s power. She had felt the true, raw essence of fear’s power, had tasted its intoxicating bitterness, and so, the ability to devour, to command, to become that fear… it was surprisingly easy.

Magical Girl Black’s body swayed precariously. She could feel that new, terrifying, exhilarating power already beginning to wreak havoc on her own physical form, a thrilling, dangerous burn. This stuff… it’s really, really not easy to tame! Not at all! But oh, the possibilities!

But she knew, with a sudden, desperate clarity, that she couldn’t stop now. She couldn’t rest. Her precious daughter, Hana, was still, at this very moment, in terrible, mortal danger.

......

Hana Tanaka’s precious magical energy, her mana, was almost completely, utterly depleted. She was running on fumes. To be perfectly honest, the fact that she was still alive at this point, with her internal mana bar practically blinking red on empty, was something she should probably take a moment to congratulate herself for. After all, many less experienced, less gutsy Espers got instantly, unceremoniously one-shotted by fiends before they even had a chance to use up their pretty blue bar, let alone put up a decent fight.

But… how… how could there be two of them?! Two fiends! At the same time! Against her! This was so unfair!

She was going to die here today… wasn’t she? In this stupid, fiend-infested alleyway.

Hana realized this cruel, brutal, inescapable fact, and the crushing realization stole her breath away, leaving her gasping and trembling. Her carefully maintained invisibility spell had only a few precious, terrifying seconds of duration left. That disgusting, leering frog-like fiend, it knew exactly where she was hiding, she could feel its cold, predatory eyes on her. It was just pretending not to see her, sadistically, cruelly, letting her despair, her terror, grow with each passing, agonizing moment…

Damn it… This is so unfair… So incredibly unfair… Ren… Dad…

At least… at least I can do this much…

With fingers made clumsy and unresponsive by fear and exhaustion, she fumbled for her smartphone, her vision blurring with unshed tears, and quickly, desperately, typed out a short, final message.

At that precise, heart-wrenching moment, her invisibility spell finally, inevitably flickered and died, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. The grotesque, leering frog-like fiend, which had indeed known her precise position all along, let out a disgusting, horrifyingly triumphant, almost gleeful croak. Its smile was pure, unadulterated malice. “Well, well, little girl? Not hiding anymore? Decided to face your doom like a brave little morsel?”

Hana’s trembling thumb hovered over the send button. Then—with a small, defiant sob—she pressed it. And closed her eyes, bracing herself, waiting for her own inevitable, terrifying death.