Chapter 3: Supporters

“Hana! Earth to Hana! Time to get up, sleepyhead!” Ren Akiyama sighed, engaged in his daily Sisyphean task of wrestling with the girl who was currently curled up on her bed like a particularly stubborn, blanket-cocooned caterpillar. It took the legendary strength of nine bulls and two tigers (or at least, the exasperated patience of a saintly childhood friend), but he finally, finally, managed to yank the duvet off her.

And then he was confronted with the rather… alluring… sight of the girl before him, sprawled out in a set of surprisingly revealing silk pajamas. Whoa there.

For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, Ren’s breath hitched in his throat, his cheeks flushing a tell-tale crimson. But the next second, with the practiced composure of someone who’d seen this exact scenario play out a thousand times, he’d regained his cool. Mostly. “Hana, seriously, get up. The school sent out a notice late last night; we all need to go in today to help rebuild the campus after yesterday’s fiend-tastrophe.”

The girl on the bed performed a series of languid, boneless wiggles, then mumbled indistinctly into her pillow, her voice thick with sleep, “That damn school… just wants to exploit my precious magic for free labor… No way, dude… I’m totally ditching today. Anyway, my ‘oh-so-ordinary’ old man is conveniently away on some boring business trip for a while. If I don’t show up, what are the teachers gonna do? Give me a stern talking to? Pfft. They wouldn’t dare… Just let me sleep a little bit longer… five more centuries…”

Ren was silent for a few charged seconds, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, with a sigh that spoke volumes of his long-suffering dedication, he simply scooped the surprisingly light girl off the bed, unceremoniously hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of (very cute) potatoes, and marched her into the bathroom. He proceeded to efficiently wash her face, (gently) shove a toothbrush into her mouth, and expertly tie up her sleep-tousled hair into a messy but functional ponytail. After that rather thorough and slightly invasive morning routine, no matter how desperately she clung to the sweet embrace of slumber, she really had no choice but to wake up.

As Hana, now grudgingly vertical, got dressed, she shot Ren a look that could curdle milk. “You! You utter brute! You know perfectly well I’ll just be stuck doing mind-numbing manual labor if I go! And you still dragged me out of my warm, comfy bed! Seriously! And by the way, aren’t you going to, like, turn around while I’m changing? A little privacy, please?”

“Ah. You have a point there.” Ren, ever the gentleman (or perhaps just flustered), immediately spun on his heel, presenting her with his broad, reliable back.

Hana, mid-shirt-tug, paused and looked at his retreating figure, a flicker of uncharacteristic concern in her eyes. “Hey… you seem a bit… out of it today. Spaced out. What’s wrong? Did Magical Girl Black kick you too?”

“N-nothing! Nothing’s wrong,” Ren said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I was just… wondering about your Esper ability, ‘Mage.’ What’s the actual, practical difference between that and being a bona fide Magical Girl? Hasn’t that new Magical Girl Black been making waves in our area recently? Her fighting style… it doesn’t seem very magical-girl-like, you know? Honestly, apart from the fact that she can apparently fly, I don’t see a single magical element about her. That so-called ‘God-Severing Cleave’ of hers? It’s just a glorified hand-chop! No matter how you slice it, she just comes across as a violent, perpetually angry, and frankly terrifying person.”

“Ah… yeah, I think I saw something about her on the news last night,” Hana recalled, a vague image of a dark, brooding figure flashing through her mind. “You’re still dead set on becoming a Supporter, right? I know there are those silly rumors that say increased contact with Espers raises your chances of awakening an ability yourself, but look at me—I awakened my Mage ability when I was practically a baby, and yet my boring old man never awakened a single thing, not even the ability to make decent coffee. It really makes you doubt the truth of that old saying, doesn’t it? Same for you, I guess. Still no powers, huh?” she added, a teasing lilt to her voice.

Supporters. The unsung heroes behind the capes.

Espers, or "Superheroes" as the media loved to call them, despite their immense, often reality-bending power, were still, at their core, fundamentally human. They got stressed, they made mistakes, they had bad hair days, and they definitely encountered all sorts of mundane and not-so-mundane problems that super-strength or laser eyes couldn’t solve.

Supporters were the dedicated, often overworked, individuals who helped these "Superheroes" navigate the messy complexities of their double lives. They typically established deep, trusting relationships with their assigned Superheroes, assisting them with everything from managing their chaotic schedules and handling their often-nightmarish public relations, to assessing mission parameters, coordinating team efforts, and even providing crucial psychological counseling (because fighting city-destroying fiends on a regular basis tended to mess with one’s head, apparently). Although it often sounded like glorified secretarial work on paper, the actual requirements were incredibly, almost inhumanly, high. Very few people possessed the unique blend of intelligence, empathy, organizational skills, and sheer grit required to pass the notoriously difficult Supporter qualification examinations. It was widely said that such multi-talented individuals would be considered invaluable, irreplaceable pillars in any top-tier company.

Hana knew Ren had been diligently, almost obsessively, striving towards this incredibly demanding goal for years. However, she also knew, with a pang of something she refused to identify as affection, that he probably still needed a few more years of intense study and training to reach the required professional level.

But… a big part of why he wants to become a Supporter… it’s for my sake, too, isn’t it? To be there for me…

At this sudden, unexpectedly warm thought, Hana’s cheeks grew a delightful shade of pink. She quickly looked away, pretending to be intensely interested in a loose thread on her school uniform.

“Besides,” Ren continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil, “helping out at the school reconstruction today will increase your official Esper Points. You know that’s something that can effectively improve your internal ranking within the Hero Association. Every little bit helps right now; as they say, ‘many a little makes a mickle,’ or something like that. And honestly, this is a pretty rare opportunity to score some easy points. I’ve heard that many of the really powerful, top-tier Espers actively seek out government-assigned volunteer work like this to boost their standing and public image.”

“Ugh, fine! Since you put it that way, I guess it would be totally unreasonable and completely out of character for me not to go,” Hana grumbled, though there was a distinct lack of actual malice in her tone. “Let’s just get this over with. To school, then, oh fearless leader.”

Hana’s Esper ability was officially classified as "Mage." As the rather uninspired name suggested, her powers were remarkably similar to those of the classic mages depicted in countless fantasy novels and video games; she could, with varying degrees of success, cast a wide variety of elemental and arcane spells. However, it was fundamentally, categorically different from being a Magical Girl.

For one thing, she needed to train. Constantly.

"Meditation" was her primary method for increasing her reserves of magical power, her mana pool. She would often intuitively understand the theoretical principles behind a new spell, but actually casting it effectively in a real-world situation required arduous, repetitive practice, releasing the spell time and time again until it became second nature. There were no flashy transformation sequences or instant power-ups for her.

If Ren, who had been intimately familiar with her ability since they were children (and had been on the receiving end of more than a few misfired practice spells), were to evaluate it with his usual blunt honesty, he’d say—this ability, while versatile, lacked the inherent, almost cheat-like power to create true, reality-defying miracles. It was, in essence, another sophisticated form of manipulating the existing laws of their universe, albeit in a way that closely adhered to the established fictional rules of "magic." But the power of Magical Girls… that was something else entirely. Magical Girls, with their inexplicable powers and even more inexplicable fashion sense, sometimes did create honest-to-goodness miracles, pulling victory from the jaws of certain defeat with a well-timed sparkly attack and a heartfelt speech about friendship.

The ultimate source of their incredible power was a complete mystery. The precise reasons and mechanisms behind their often bizarre and overly-themed transformations were unknown. The exact manifestations and limitations of their powers were, to put it mildly, wildly inconsistent and poorly documented.

People only knew, with a frustrating lack of detail, that a Magical Girl’s psychological and emotional state had a profound, often unpredictable, influence on her power output. But as for the specifics, the actual nuts and bolts of how it all worked, no one could lay down a definitive, universally applicable rule. After all, psychological states were inherently ambiguous, nebulous things; even the individuals themselves often found them difficult to accurately judge or control, especially in the heat of battle.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Let’s go to school then!” Hana finally declared, grabbing her school bag with a sigh of resignation.

And so, the two of them, childhood friends united by circumstance and a shared destiny (though neither would ever admit it), headed towards the battle-scarred, fiend-damaged school.

Hana, despite her earlier protests, actually felt pretty great. Fantastic, even!

Her old man, who did nothing but nag her incessantly all day long, every single day, yet never actually listened to a single word she had to say, was away on a business trip! Could anything possibly be better than this glorious, dad-free state of affairs? Absolutely not! It was, in a word, perfect!

Although, it was a bit strange why her dad’s dead-end, soul-crushing company would even have something as exotic as a business trip. Maybe that crappy, third-rate company had actually managed to grow a tiny bit over the years. After all, her dad did seem to be spending money a little more freely lately; he’d even, in a moment of what she could only assume was temporary insanity, considered signing her up for an expensive after-school cram school a while back. The horror!

But none of that really mattered right now!

What truly, deeply mattered was! Dad. Wasn’t. Home!

That meant she could hang out with Ren at school all day without her dad’s disapproving glares, and then, after school, she could totally invite Ren over to her place! Or she could go over to his place! They were next-door neighbors, after all; it was practically a sacred childhood friend tradition! They used to visit each other’s houses all the time when they were younger, practically living in each other’s pockets. But then… then puberty had struck, like a hormonal meteor, and they’d both started feeling inexplicably, excruciatingly embarrassed about it, especially when their parents were around, watching them with those knowing, slightly amused smiles. It just wasn’t as easy to casually drop by anymore, not without a carefully constructed pretext.

No! Wait! Not just hanging out at home… Actually, if Dad’s not around to interfere… we could… we could actually go on a proper DATE!

Hana, who had been feeling rather lazy and unmotivated just moments before, suddenly perked up at this electrifying thought, her eyes sparkling with newfound determination. A mischievous grin spread across her face.

“Um, hey, Ren…” she began, trying to sound casual, but failing miserably. “Are you, uh, by any chance… free this afternoon? After school, I mean?”

“This afternoon?” Ren repeated, looking thoughtful. “Hmm, I actually do have something on, unfortunately. There’s a special guest lecture about the advanced practicalities of being a Supporter that I really need to attend. It’s supposed to be super informative.”

Hana, who had just been soaring on the wings of romantic possibility, immediately deflated like a punctured balloon. Her shoulders slumped. “Oh. Is it… like, a really, really important lecture?” she asked, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Yeah, it’s pretty important,” Ren said seriously, then a soft smile touched his lips. “But, hey, I think maybe… just maybe… I can give you a little surprise in a little while. Isn’t your birthday coming up pretty soon?”

Hana’s eyes widened. “A surprise? You’re going to give me a surprise?”

“That’s the plan,” Ren confirmed, his smile widening.

And just like that, the girl, a creature of wonderfully fickle teenage emotions, was once again filled with bubbly, eager anticipation. A surprise from Ren! What could it be?!

......

To be brutally honest, stage performances, idol concerts, and anything remotely involving coordinated dance moves and forced smiles were completely, utterly, and catastrophically unsuitable for the likes of Magical Girl Black. If one were to objectively rate Black’s debut performance, it could probably only be described with phrases like "an unmitigated disaster," "a train wreck of epic proportions," or, more charitably, "overwhelmingly negative, bordering on traumatic for all involved." Although her singing voice, surprisingly, wasn't actively terrible—a bit rough around the edges, perhaps, but passable—once she was actually thrust onto the brightly lit stage, her limbs seemed to turn to lead, her movements were stiff and awkward, she resolutely refused to crack even the hint of a smile, and her voice, when she did sing, trembled with a barely suppressed mixture of stage fright and murderous rage. This, understandably, greatly disappointed the segment of the audience that had, for some inexplicable reason, held some vague, optimistic expectations for Magical Girl Black’s stage debut.

Although, it had to be said, a few… enthusiastic… perverts in the crowd were heard muttering things like "Ooh, this terrifying awkwardness is surprisingly cute in its own twisted way!" and "The sheer murderous intent in her eyes! So moe!", in reality, Magical Girl Black’s first (and hopefully last, she fervently prayed) foray into the world of idol performances had spectacularly failed to turn around her dismal public reputation. If anything, it had only served to deepen the public's already firmly entrenched stereotype of her as "scary, unapproachable, and definitely not gentle."

Backstage, Black was currently sitting sprawled on a rickety plastic stool, legs splayed wide in a decidedly unladylike manner, aggressively wiping sweat from her brow with a rough towel. “Damn it all to hell! These so-called ‘fans’ are simply ungrateful, ignorant swine! I, the mighty Magical Girl Black, deign to perform for their pathetic amusement, and not only do they not shower me with thunderous applause and tearful adulation, they actually dare to give me bad reviews! Bad reviews! Can you believe the audacity?! If I were a fiend, I’d definitely make these uncultured bastards understand in excruciating detail why flowers are so vividly, painfully red!”

Strawberry Sweetheart, ever the professional, hovering nervously beside her, quickly interjected, her voice a soothing balm, “Now, now, Miss Black! Please calm down! Magical Girls really shouldn’t use such… colorful language! It’s bad for our image!”

Truthfully, Strawberry Sweetheart had been surprisingly good to her, a real trouper. She’d helped save the situation, or at least mitigate the sheer scale of the disaster, for Black on stage quite a few times with her quick thinking and dazzling smiles. Black, deep down in the cynical, world-weary heart of Kenji Tanaka, was rather pathetically grateful. If she hadn’t transformed into the terrifying Magical Girl Black and was instead interacting with Strawberry Sweetheart as her mundane, salaryman self, Kenji, he would have undoubtedly, humbly and respectfully, expressed his profound thanks, and probably would have even insisted on paying Strawberry Sweetheart a formal visit later with an expensive gift basket as a token of his sincere, groveling courtesy.

But she wasn't Kenji Tanaka right now. She was Magical Girl Black. The fearsome, enigmatic Black whose true identity was a closely guarded secret, known to only a select, unfortunate few! As the old saying goes, it often seemed like putting on a mask actually allowed one to finally, liberatingly, take off their true mask. So, she wouldn't—couldn't—adopt her past persona of a polite, deferential, and utterly downtrodden corporate drone. “Hah! You think you can lecture me, little miss perfect, just because you’re popular and everyone kisses your sparkly boots?” she sneered, her voice dripping with contempt.

Honestly, as Kenji, even he felt that the person saying such outrageously arrogant words was an insufferable, egotistical brat badly in need of a good, old-fashioned disciplinary thrashing. But as the one actually uttering them, as Magical Girl Black, she just felt… incredibly, wonderfully, exhilaratingly good. It was a complete, intoxicating departure from her past miserable, soul-crushing life of quiet desperation. No wonder some people actually enjoyed being villains and doing bad things; this whole business of committing transgressions and then brazenly refusing to acknowledge them… it was truly, dangerously addictive.

“E-eh! N-no! I didn’t mean it like that at all! I would never presume! If I made you misunderstand, Miss Black, I sincerely, deeply apologize!” Strawberry Sweetheart looked genuinely flustered and slightly terrified as she stammered out her apology, bowing her head repeatedly.

It had to be said, this really was a good kid. A sweet, earnest, and thoroughly decent girl. The ideal, picture-perfect magical girl that existed in everyone’s collective imagination. No wonder that among the distinctive, often eccentric, magical girls currently active, this one had ultimately risen to become the undisputed number one on the popularity charts and had managed to stay there, reigning supreme, for years on end—she was, simply put, the quintessential, universally beloved magical girl. The gold standard.

Kenji, even in his current belligerent state, couldn’t bring himself to continue making things difficult for this genuinely nice girl. “Tch. Whatever,” Black grumbled, waving a dismissive hand. “This is just a job for the money, anyway. If those damn organizers dare to try and dock my pay because of a few disgruntled ‘fans,’ I’ll personally make them regret the day they were born!”

Strawberry Sweetheart managed a weak, strained smile, though her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. Is this person… is she really, truly a magical girl and not some kind of high-functioning, verbally abusive fiend in disguise? The jury’s still out on that one.

Although such a heretical doubt briefly, treacherously, crossed her mind, it was an undeniable fact that this intimidating person had saved her a few days ago. While her fighting style was terrifyingly frenzied and borderline psychotic, her overwhelmingly powerful, almost godlike strength indeed inspired a profound, primal awe. It was genuinely hard to imagine her ever being defeated. In stark contrast, Strawberry Sweetheart, the supposed model magical girl, the beacon of hope and justice, had actually lost her fair share of battles over the years. Though she had always managed to overcome those obstacles, learn from her mistakes, and grow to her current level of strength, she also held a deep, almost reverent admiration for Black’s raw, untamed power. Just the way Black unhesitatingly, ruthlessly attacked fiends, without a shred of doubt or mercy, was enough to confirm that she was, despite her… abrasive… personality, a genuine, dyed-in-the-wool magical girl. Her inner fortitude, her sheer unwavering resolve, might even be stronger, more unbreakable, than her own.

Just then, Strawberry Sweetheart’s phone buzzed with an incoming message. She glanced at the screen, her eyes widening slightly, then looked up at Magical Girl Black, a thoughtful, almost calculating smile playing on her lips. “Actually, Miss Black, if you’re finding these kinds of public appearance things… challenging… would you perhaps consider the possibility of getting a dedicated Supporter?”

“A Supporter?” Black echoed, blinking in surprise. The word sounded vaguely familiar.

“You mean, like… a manager? A handler? That kind of glorified babysitter role?”

She knew, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that her daughter’s infuriatingly perfect childhood friend, Ren, had always harbored ambitions of becoming a Supporter. But when she herself, as Kenji, had idly looked at the Supporter qualification exam content out of sheer curiosity a while back, she’d immediately thought it was practically inhuman, a torture devised by sadists. If someone could actually pass that kind of ridiculously demanding exam… they’d have to be some kind of superhuman genius.

A sudden, dawning realization struck her. She narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. Are the higher-ups, those faceless bureaucratic bastards, planning to assign me a Supporter? Without my consent?”

“Well, according to official regulations and established protocols, yes, that’s generally the standard procedure for high-profile magical girls like yourself,” Strawberry Sweetheart explained patiently. “However, your personal wishes and preferences will, of course, be taken into serious consideration, Miss Black. They wouldn’t force someone on you if you were strongly opposed.”

After a long, contemplative moment, Black let out a resigned sigh. “Hmph. If that’s the official rule, then I guess I’m okay with it. Let’s just follow the damn rules and get it over with.”

Wow. That’s… surprisingly compliant of her. Strawberry Sweetheart thought, genuinely taken aback. She had fully expected the notoriously volatile and rule-averse Black to vehemently, perhaps even violently, refuse such a thing. Just because it’s the rule, it’s okay? That’s… unexpected.

She had, it seemed, just witnessed a rare, almost mythical, unexpectedly rule-abiding side of the infamous Magical Girl Black. The world is full of surprises.