Chapter 20: The Attack Ends

MAGICAL GIRL BLACK! Her sudden, terrifying, and undeniably badass arrival instantly and miraculously put both Ren Akiyama and Hana Tanaka at ease, their frayed nerves calming somewhat in her overwhelming and almost suffocating presence. Although they both had a million, a billion, a trillion things they desperately wanted to say, a thousand urgent, life-or-death questions they absolutely needed to ask, Ren, ever the pragmatic Supporter, immediately, instinctively prioritized the most critical issue. “BLACK! Are you okay?! Can you still fight?!”

Magical Girl Black looked at Ren with a slightly puzzled and vacant expression, quickly and almost imperceptibly assessed her own battered and bruised condition (both physical and mental), and then, after a moment that stretched into an eternity, gave a curt and dismissive nod. “Yeah. Guess so. Still kicking.” Barely.

“Strawberry Sweetheart! She’s still out there, fighting that monster, Darkmoon Queen! Can you… can you go help her?! Please!” Ren urged, his voice tight with concern for the city’s beloved pink magical girl.

“Hmph. Fine.”

Black didn’t hesitate. Not for a single, solitary second. She immediately, without another word, launched herself into the sky and sped away in the direction of the ongoing battle. With the two low-level fiends here decisively, if rather messily taken care of, she could, with a reasonable degree of confidence (and a whole heap of internal self-loathing), leave the immediate aftermath and cleanup to Ren. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Ren’s timely intervention, his surprisingly effective drone strike and his courageous rescue of Hana, she might have arrived far too late. The thought sent a fresh wave of icy shame washing over her.

So damn pathetic! Utterly, completely pathetic! Kenji Tanaka screamed internally, his carefully constructed Magical Girl Black persona momentarily cracking under the weight of his fatherly guilt.

To think I was actually, genuinely prepared to just give up and die back there—is it because I became a goddamn magical girl that my stupid, sentimental heart started turning into some kind of fragile, overly emotional maiden’s too?! I almost, almost let my precious daughter get herself killed… because of my own weakness… my own despair…

So embarrassing! So unbelievably, humiliatingly embarrassing! She felt like she couldn’t quite face that perceptive, way-too-smart-for-his-own-good kid, Ren, right now. Not after that display of utter incompetence and emotional fragility.

Watching the enigmatic, black-clad magical girl speed away like a vengeful comet, Ren forcefully suppressed the myriad of confusing, alarming, and frankly quite terrifying thoughts and suspicions currently swirling like a hurricane in his own rapidly processing mind. He turned his immediate attention to Hana, who was still trembling slightly in his arms, her eyes wide and haunted. “Hana, listen to me. We need to go to the hospital first. Right now. You need a full, comprehensive check-up, just to make sure there aren’t any hidden injuries, or internal damage that isn’t immediately obvious.”

“N-no, it’s okay, Ren. There’s no need, really,” Hana mumbled, her voice still shaky. “My body… it’s in surprisingly good shape, considering. Besides, once I recover a little bit more of my mana, I can use some basic healing magic on myself. So, there’s really no need to make a special trip to the hospital. It’s fine. Actually…” she looked up at him, her cheeks suddenly flushing a delicate, charming shade of pink, “could you… could you maybe put me down first? Please?”

Ren, noticing the adorable crimson blush spreading across the girl’s cheeks, realized with a start that he was still carrying her bridal style. She was clearly, endearingly embarrassed. He chuckled helplessly, a warm, fond smile gracing his lips. He didn’t insist on carrying her further (much to his own slight disappointment) and gently, carefully set her down on her own two feet. Hana immediately and frantically straightened her slightly rumpled clothes, avoiding his gaze.

“Ren, I… I think I might be—” Ren saw a deep, troubled, almost haunted look cloud the girl’s usually bright eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper. “What… what those fiends, Devouring Frog and Burrowing Worm, said earlier… about why they became fiends… was it… was it true, Ren?”

Ren instantly, with a sinking heart, understood what was troubling her, what was causing that shadow in her eyes.

Yes, if what the two now-obliterated fiends had said was true, if their tragic, bitter backstories were to be believed, then did they truly, genuinely want to become fiends in the first place? Or were they driven to it by a cruel, uncaring world? There were, undeniably, truly, irredeemably evil people in the world, fiends like the despicable Quivering Tentacles, the sadistic Silver Drill, and the perverted Maiden Bandage. Those were the types who reveled in using their Esper abilities to satisfy their own twisted, selfish desires, who were lost in their own dark, narcissistic worlds—individuals whose deaths would not, and should not, be mourned by anyone with a shred of decency. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

But Devouring Frog and Burrowing Worm…? Their stories, their pain, had felt… different. More tragic. More… understandable.

To be perfectly honest, in the many, many fantastical magical girl stories that existed in this strange, new world, characters like Devouring Frog and Burrowing Worm—villains with sympathetic backstories, driven to evil by suffering and injustice—were not at all uncommon. It was a classic trope. Hana, being the massive magical girl aficionado, the self-proclaimed "super mega magical girl otaku" that she was, had undoubtedly seen countless similar stories, similar archetypes, since she was a little kid; she definitely, intellectually, knew that such pitiable, tragic figures existed, at least in fiction. However, seeing such archetypes depicted in colorful anime, in thrilling movies, or in addictive gacha games was one thing; hearing their raw, unfiltered pain and soul-deep motivations directly from their own trembling, hate-filled mouths was something else entirely. Something far more visceral. More real. Hana had just, minutes ago, directly confronted that raw, undiluted, almost palpable malice. That bitterness which originated from the individual fiends, Devouring Frog and Burrowing Worm, yet somehow seemed to stem from something far larger, far deeper, far more systemic than just the two of them. It had clearly, profoundly shaken her to her core, causing her innocent, idealistic heart to waver, to question the simple black-and-white morality she had always believed in. In the heat of the moment, while desperately fighting for her life, she’d had no time to process, no time to think. But now that the immediate danger had passed, now that she was relatively safe, their anguished, accusatory words began to echo relentlessly, insidiously in her mind.

And what made it even worse, from Hana’s perspective—Magical Girl Black, in her terrifying efficiency, had instantly, brutally obliterated both fiends without a moment’s hesitation, without a single word of understanding or an attempt at redemption. The questions Hana had desperately, unspokenly wanted to ask them, the sliver of understanding or perhaps even empathy she might have sought… those opportunities were now lost forever, reduced to nothing more than a bloody smear on the pavement… Of course, from Ren Akiyama’s more pragmatic, Supporter-in-training perspective, this was a kind of fortunate, almost luxurious worry. After all, it was only because they had both, against all odds, survived that direct, terrifying confrontation with such raw, unadulterated malice that she even had the luxury, the privilege of such troubling, philosophical thoughts. If they had been consumed by that malice, if they had been brutally, unceremoniously killed by those two fiends, there would be absolutely no room, no time, no consciousness left for any kind of deep, existential contemplation. You’d just be… fiend-chow. So, being able, being alive enough, to worry like this, to grapple with these complex moral ambiguities, was, in its own strange, twisted way, a testament to their incredible luck and a perverse form of happiness.

Naturally, this was looking at it from a stubbornly, perhaps even willfully optimistic angle. From a less optimistic, more realistic perspective, this was akin to a classic case of post-traumatic stress, a crisis of faith. Hana Tanaka fundamentally believed herself to be righteous, to be one of the good guys; she had bravely, heroically stood up, had risked her own life to protect the innocent people on the street, to defend her friends. This noble, almost sacred sense of mission, this unwavering belief in justice, was what had always sustained her actions, her dreams of becoming a true hero. But for her, knowing that the fiends she fought might also be victims in their own right… the thought that killing Devouring Frog and Burrowing Worm, even indirectly through the actions of Magical Girl Black, might not have been the only solution, certainly not the right one… it was a deeply unsettling, profoundly troubling notion.

Oh, Black… why did you have to be so… so final?

“Hey, don’t rush it, Hana. Don’t try to figure it all out right now.” Ren said, his voice soft, his smile gentle and reassuring. He didn’t actually, honestly know the answer to her unspoken questions; he didn’t truly know how to resolve Hana’s deep, existential doubts. After all, no matter how outstanding, how intelligent, how perceptive he was, he was still just a teenager, still slogging his way through the emotional minefield of high school. There were still so many things in this vast, complicated world that he had yet to see, yet to experience, yet to understand. He, too, if he were being completely honest with himself, felt a similar, disquieting degree of wavering, of uncertainty, in the face of such raw, tragic villainy.

But he knew, with an absolute, unwavering certainty, that he couldn’t show it. Not now. Not to Hana.

His smile, his calm, steady presence, seemed to possess a certain, almost magical power, a quiet strength that gradually and perceptibly began to soothe Hana’s uneasy, troubled heart.

“We’re still young, Hana,” he said, his voice filled with a warmth and conviction that surprised even himself. He gently, reassuringly took her trembling hand in his. “We still have so much time ahead of us. So much time to search for the answers, to understand the world, to understand ourselves. We can afford to look for those answers slowly, carefully, together.” He squeezed her hand, his gaze meeting hers, steady and true. “I’ll search with you, Hana. Every step of the way. I promise.”

Hana looked up at him, her eyes still shadowed but a little brighter now. A small, hesitant smile touched her lips. “Mhm! Okay, Ren. Together.”

......

Strawberry Sweetheart was, without a single shadow of a doubt, caught in an incredibly bitter and almost hopeless struggle. Trying to defeat the formidable Darkmoon Queen without resorting to her other, more powerful (and more dangerous) forms was, without question, a fool’s errand, a complete and utter fantasy. This fiend, this creature of pure, refined malice, was the legendary founder and undisputed ruler of the infamous Darkmoon Coven! A being of immense, ancient power! She had rampaged, virtually unchallenged, across the world for so many long, dark years! No one, not a single hero, not a single magical girl, had ever truly, definitively managed to subjugate her, to end her reign of terror!

Even the mighty Strawberry Sweetheart herself, in their previous, cataclysmic encounter, even when using her terrifying, all-powerful Inverted state, had failed to truly, decisively kill this seemingly invincible fiend, allowing her to escape, to lick her wounds, to plot her inevitable return. Although Strawberry Sweetheart had undoubtedly grown stronger, more mature, more experienced since then—she knew, with a frustrating certainty, that the Queen was merely, cruelly toying with her here, trying to stall her, to keep her occupied. If she, Strawberry, were to unleash her full, unrestrained power now, the Queen would simply, annoyingly resort to her infuriating hit-and-run tactics, dragging out the fight, avoiding a decisive confrontation. The Queen’s true, ultimate target today, Strawberry knew, was not her. It was Black.

But, strangely enough, Strawberry Sweetheart wasn’t particularly worried about Magical Girl Black, not really. From the very first day she had met that enigmatic, terrifying person, Strawberry Sweetheart had known with an almost intuitive certainty, that Black possessed an unparalleled, inhuman strength of will, a core of pure, unyielding iron. She could, without a moment’s hesitation, without even blinking her cold, calculating eyes, brutally, efficiently obliterate fiends, and then, terrifyingly, crack that strange and almost bloodthirsty, deeply unsettling smile of hers. As an enemy, Black would undoubtedly be the stuff of nightmares, a relentless, unstoppable force of destruction. But as an ally, however reluctant and grumpy, she was surprisingly and incredibly reassuring. Black was not the kind of opponent who would be easily or quietly defeated. Not by a long shot.

So, this… this was also her chance. A precious, perhaps fleeting opportunity. A chance to truly communicate with the enigmatic Darkmoon Queen, to reach past the layers of hatred and despair. Even if it was just a little, even if she could just make the Queen reconsider her destructive path, even for a single, solitary moment, then perhaps… perhaps there was still hope.

“Strawberry Sweetheart! That was UTTERLY PATHETIC! Even for you!”

Like a terrifying, pitch-black comet streaking across the bruised and battered sky, a figure of pure, concentrated fury slammed into the scene. A single, devastating punch shattered the dark flame defenses that had been swirling around Darkmoon Queen, sending the powerful fiend leader hurtling through the air like a discarded doll, a shocked, almost comical expression of disbelief on her usually serene face.

Magical Girl Black had arrived! And she looked pissed.

“Heh. Not bad. As expected of the big boss of the infamous Darkmoon Coven, I suppose. You’re a hell of a lot tougher, a lot more durable than that pretty-boy, eyeliner-wearing lieutenant of yours, whatsisname, Darkstar Count!” Black grumbled, casually flexing her knuckle-duster-clad fists, which were still faintly smoking with residual dark energy. “That last punch of mine, the one that rearranged his internal organs? It should have been more than enough to completely obliterate him, to turn him into fiend-dust. But you? You just took a little damage. Impressive. Almost.”

Is it because the ambient power of fear isn’t strong enough here? Not enough screaming civilians to fuel my new, awesome power-up? Damn it. Black glanced briefly at the remaining crowd of terrified evacuees still cowering in the distance. She noticed, with a flicker of surprise, that their eyes, when they looked at her, held not just terror, but also a strange, unexpected flicker of… "trust." Belief. Hope, even. She then looked over at the spectacularly battered, bruised, and barely-standing Strawberry Sweetheart, her lips twitching with a mixture of exasperation and grudging respect. She’s beaten this badly, looking like she just went ten rounds with a cement mixer, and you all still, somehow, inexplicably believe she can actually win this thing? Seriously? Is this the legendary sense of security and hope that Strawberry Sweetheart, the Number One Magical Girl, inspires in people? It’s… kind of impressive. And a little bit sickening.

“Black! Oh my gosh, you’re okay! You’re really okay!” Strawberry Sweetheart cried out, her voice filled with genuine, heartfelt relief, her usually bright smile wobbly but undeniably real.

Seeing Strawberry Sweetheart’s purely, almost painfully sincere smile, Miss Black suddenly felt… awkward. Overwhelmed. That dazzling, undiluted display of pure, innocent goodness… it was a bit too much for her cynical, world-weary soul to handle. She couldn’t possibly bring herself to say something typically Black-like, such as, “Yeah, no thanks to you, Pinky. I was actually planning to just give up, die heroically, and maybe get a decent pension out of it, but then you had to go and ruin everything with your sparkly intervention.” No, she couldn’t say that. Not to that smile. So, instead, she just managed a stiff, awkward, and probably quite unconvincing smile in response. Nailed it.

Then, her expression hardening, her eyes turning to chips of ice, she turned her full, undivided attention to the slowly recovering, and now royally pissed-off, Darkmoon Queen, who, having taken a rather direct, unladylike punch to the face from Black, was likely suffering from some significant internal damage to her royal mouth, as evidenced by the crimson blood now trickling gracefully from the corner of her perfectly shaped lips.

“Alright, Darkmoon Queen, you overdramatic goth reject! Party’s over! Surrender peacefully now, and I might consider not punching your other cheek into next week!” Black growled, cracking her knuckles menacingly.

“The power of fear… So, not only did that incompetent fool Darkstar Count lose to you, but you even managed to steal, to corrupt, his unique ability for your own nefarious purposes? Magical girls… you are all, as always, so utterly, predictably, and shamelessly without honor!” Darkmoon Queen spat, wiping a smear of blood from her lip with a delicate, contemptuous gesture. She looked at the two formidable magical girls now standing united before her, an unreadable and almost amused smile playing on her lips. “Well, well. This has certainly been an… entertaining… interlude. But I believe we shall call it a day for now, shall we? Hehe. There will be plenty of time for more… fun… later, my dear, dear Black. Our paths will cross again. Soon.”

Pitch-black, malevolent flames suddenly and violently enveloped her entire regal form, and then, with a final, chilling chuckle, she vanished without a trace, leaving only the faint scent of ozone and expensive perfume hanging in the air.

As expected of the supreme leader of a major evil organization, huh? That flashy, theatrical escape method… it definitely has some serious style points. Gotta give her that. Black, unfortunately, had no way to stop her from retreating. Not this time.

“Strawberry Sweetheart,” Black said, her voice returning to its usual gruff monotone, “how are you feeling? Seriously. Faced with a monster of that caliber, why in the seven hells didn’t you use your other, more powerful forms? Were you trying to get yourself killed?”

Strawberry Sweetheart just shook her head slightly, a soft, gentle smile still gracing her lips as she looked at Black. Her eyes were filled with a warmth and gratitude that made Kenji Tanaka profoundly uncomfortable. “Miss Black, really, it’s just so, so good that you’re alright! Thank you so much for your help! You saved me! Again!” She then turned, with a dazzling, megawatt smile, to the remaining, shell-shocked evacuees who were slowly emerging from their hiding places. “Everyone! Thank you all so much for your wonderful support and for believing in us too~ You’re all heroes in my book! Mwah!” She blew them a kiss.

Ugh. No wonder her popularity ratings are through the goddamn roof… She’s a natural. A complete professional.

“Right. Well. Since this particular fiend-induced attack seems to have finally and mercifully come to an end,” Black grumbled, already feeling exhausted, “I’ll be… ah… leaving first. Got important magical girl stuff to do. Elsewhere.” Black, in reality, had some very urgent, very personal, and very non-magical-girl matters to attend to! Namely, finding out who the hell had targeted her daughter!

She teleported directly back to the organization’s main headquarters building, materializing in a swirl of shadows, and stormed her way to the Transformation Department, finding the ever-so-smug, impeccably dressed General Manager—the woman in the sharp suit, the daringly short skirt, the expensive silk stockings, and the ridiculously high-heeled shoes. “Alright, you! Spill it! My secret identity! Why was it leaked?! And how the hell did those fiends know about my daughter?!” Black roared, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

The woman, lounging elegantly with her legs crossed, merely looked up at Black with that infuriatingly calm, deeply amused smirk of hers. “My, my, Miss Black. What are you talking about? I don’t quite understand the nature of your… outburst.”

“You! You damn conniving witch! Are you deliberately trying to test my already frayed patience?! Is that it?!” Black, her self-control finally snapping, leaped with surprising agility onto the expensive mahogany desk, scattering important-looking documents everywhere, and grabbed the startled (but still somehow composed) woman by the collar of her designer silk blouse. “I’m asking you a simple question, damn it! Why did those fiends know my civilian identity?! Why did they know about my daughter?! And why the hell did they specifically attack my daughter!!! ANSWER ME!”

“Ah… so you mean that little incident…” Even with Black’s knuckle-duster-clad fist practically pressed against her throat, the woman somehow, miraculously, remained unnervingly composed, almost bored. “Well, you see, my dear Black, within the shadowy ranks of the Darkmoon Coven, there’s a rather elusive and highly problematic individual known only by the codename ‘Shadow Walker.’ Although the name sounds like some kind of edgy, brooding assassin, he’s actually, quite inconveniently for us, a hacker. A cyber-espionage expert of unparalleled skill. Male or female, we don’t know. Real identity, completely unknown. Their Esper ability, we presume, is somehow related to computers, to information, to data manipulation. Rumor has it, and these are usually reliable rumors, that this Shadow Walker is consistently ranked among the world’s top ten, perhaps even top five, most dangerous black-hat hackers. Some even whisper that they are, in fact, the undisputed best, the ghost in the machine. The organization’s own dedicated team of cyber-security experts, bless their nerdy little hearts, simply can’t beat him. Or her. Or it. They’ve tried. Repeatedly. And failed. Spectacularly.”

Black was stunned into momentary silence. Her grip loosened slightly. “Then… then that means… we’re basically running around completely naked, digitally speaking, in front of the entire Darkmoon Coven! Doesn’t that mean we’ve always been completely transparent, completely vulnerable, to all fiends, to all our enemies!” The implications were horrifying.

“Now, now, Miss Black, what are you talking about—how could that possibly be the case?” the woman said to Black, her tone now laced with a hint of genuine dissatisfaction, as if Black had just said something incredibly foolish. “Please, don’t look at the Darkmoon Coven as just another run-of-the-mill fiend organization; they’re quite different, quite unique, from the other, more… pedestrian… groups of malcontents. The Darkmoon Queen, for all her theatrical villainy, is a person of surprisingly strong, if somewhat misguided, ideals. Although, her overall direction in life, her career choices, you might say, seem a bit… off, perhaps. However, they are notoriously secretive; they absolutely would not share sensitive information, especially operative identities, with other, lesser fiend organizations. This recent, rather unfortunate attack, it was simply their chosen method of attempting to realize their current, rather ambitious ideals. Regarding you, specifically. Besides,” she added, with a dismissive wave of her hand, “even if this Shadow Walker is the world’s number one hacker, so what? The organization, after a thorough cost-benefit analysis, simply felt it wasn’t worth the considerable expense and resources required to properly, permanently deal with him. If they really wanted to, if it became a top priority, they could still, theoretically, find him and… eliminate him. Eventually. Probably.”

Black slowly, reluctantly released her grip on the woman’s collar. “You… you need to help me. You need to cover up some things. My identity. Hana…”

“My dear Miss Black, these trivial, mundane matters really don’t need to concern your pretty little head,” the woman said smoothly, calmly straightening her slightly rumpled designer suit, not a hair out of place. “Leave the boring details to us professionals. However,” she added, her eyes glinting with that familiar, unsettling amusement, “I must say, Miss Black, you truly are a constant source of surprises. I honestly thought for sure, that after today’s… excitement… you would finally, inevitably unlock some brand new, spectacular form. A dazzling power-up! But in the end, you neither catastrophically Inverted, nor did you conveniently unlock a shiny new transformation. And yet, you were still, somehow, able to decisively defeat your opponent. Tell me, Miss Black, are you really, truly, just a magical girl? Or something… more?”

Black hopped off the desk, her expression unreadable. She turned to leave, her movements stiff. “Whether I’m a magical girl or not, isn’t that for you people, the experts, to decide? You can call me a fiend for all I care. It makes no difference to me.”

With a violent, almost contemptuous kick, she slammed the office door open, and then, with the arrogant, don’t-give-a-damn swagger of someone who had just faced death and spat in its eye, Magical Girl Black strode out, leaving a trail of bewildered silence and probably a very expensive repair bill in her wake.

The woman watched her go, a thoughtful and somewhat predatory smile playing on her lips. She then casually picked up her phone and made a call. “Yes, it’s me. Elevate Magical Girl Black’s identity concealment protocols to Level Omega-Seven. Immediately. Yes, I know that’s above top secret. Just do it. Although I must confess, I was really looking forward to seeing her pretty little cover spectacularly blown, it seems… it seems it’s still a bit too early for that particular brand of entertainment. A shame. Oh, and speaking of which,” her smile widened, becoming positively wolfish, “once suspicion arises, once those little seeds of doubt are planted… well, my dear Black, you just go ahead and have fun dealing with your surprisingly perceptive future son-in-law, won’t you! This should be most amusing to observe!”