Chapter 17: The Meeting

Hana Tanaka returned to her new home. The recent, chaotic series of life-threatening events had left her completely mentally and emotionally exhausted. But the final outcome, she had to admit, was a good one. A great one, even. Nothing truly terrifying or worrisome had happened in the end, not really. She had even, against all odds, managed to achieve her own quiet, personal goal: she had undertaken a profound, if slightly traumatic trial of the soul. There was nothing better, nothing more valuable, than that.

And so, feeling a deep sense of relief and accomplishment, she slept. Deeply. For a very, very long time. The house, a new one generously, and with surprising speed, provided by the organization, was magnificent. It was spacious and grand, all clean lines and modern architecture. All the equipment, from the kitchen appliances to the home theater system, was state-of-the-art, and the furniture was all high-end, designer stuff. Her sleep experience, for the first time in a very long while, was absolutely, exquisitely excellent. She felt… at peace.

Until, that is, she was jolted unceremoniously, and with extreme prejudice, awake by the shrill, insistent ringing of her official, organization-issued phone.

She rubbed her bleary and currently very irritated eyes and, with the grim, weary sense of duty befitting a new and already overworked apprentice Supporter, answered the phone call that she really, really, with every fiber of her being, did not want to answer…

Ten seconds later, Hana Tanaka was awake. More awake, more alert, more terrifyingly, shockingly conscious than she had ever been in her entire, sixteen-year-long life. She immediately, almost violently, switched the phone to speaker mode, her voice a loud, incredulous, hysterical squawk that echoed through the quiet, sun-drenched room. “WHAT?! What did you just say?! Let me get this straight! You want me to stop being Magical Girl Black’s Supporter… and become Magical Girl Red’s Supporter instead?! Are you insane?!”

The woman on the other end of the line, the Handler, was silent for two long, agonizing, and probably quite calculated seconds. “That is the gist of the new arrangement, yes.” Her voice was as smooth, as calm, and as emotionless as ever.

“But… but why?!” Hana demanded, her heart pounding with a mixture of confusion and a dawning sense of indignation.

“Don’t you think,” the woman’s voice was like silken poison, every word a perfectly logical, perfectly aimed, and perfectly cruel little dart, “that having you as Magical Girl Black’s official Supporter is, from a purely logistical and resource-based standpoint, a tremendous waste of valuable resources, Miss Tanaka?” The woman on the other end had clearly, with her usual terrifying efficiency, already prepared her entire, irrefutable script well in advance. “In fact, you yourself, if you are being completely honest with yourself, should be well aware of this fact. Magical Girl Black, as your father, is capable of accomplishing almost anything she sets her mind to, correct? She is a competent adult. Your own personal magical strength, while promising, is not yet particularly high; it would be very, very difficult for you to truly be of any significant, tangible assistance to Magical Girl Black in a high-stakes combat situation. All those complex, logistical matters, all that tedious, high-level negotiation… your boyfriend, the brilliant Ren Akiyama, is far, far more adept at handling them than you are. In reality,” the Handler concluded, her voice devoid of any malice, yet utterly devastating, “the only things you can actually, truly do for Magical Girl Black at this stage are the miscellaneous, unimportant chores, aren’t they? Carrying things, fetching things, that sort of menial labor.”

What does she mean, I can’t do anything?! That’s not true! Hana thought, a surge of indignant fury rising in her chest. When Black was on the verge of losing control, when she was about to Invert, she used my dimensional space to save herself! I helped!

Thinking of this, Hana suddenly froze. Because she realized, with a dawning, crushing sense of clarity, that her providing her dimensional space… for Black herself, for her father, it really hadn’t held much tactical or strategic meaning at all. After all, whether she lost control or not had absolutely nothing to do with her magic. The only real significance was that if she had truly lost control, if she had exploded, the only ones who would have been immediately, catastrophically harmed were Black herself and Ren. In reality, had she truly, genuinely, in any meaningful way, helped Magical Girl Black at all? Or had she just been… there?

The words of rebuttal, the angry, self-righteous protests, caught in her throat, unable to come out.

“You see,” the woman’s voice continued, pressing her advantage with a surgical, cruel precision, “your silence tells me that you actually, deep down, know this to be true. The only reason they let you become a Supporter in the first place, was it not simply out of the deep, boundless love and well-intentioned, if slightly misguided protectiveness of a father and a boyfriend for their beloved daughter, for their cherished girlfriend? In reality, Miss Tanaka, they are treating you like a fledgling, helpless little chick that needs to be constantly sheltered under their protective wing. They do not believe, not really, that you possess the ability to spread your own wings and soar into the sky. And in reality,” the Handler’s voice was a final, devastating blow, “from a purely organizational, resource-management standpoint, we believe this current arrangement is a unforgivable waste of your own latent potential.”

Hana was silent again, the Handler’s words striking her with the force of a physical blow. In truth, if she hadn't already, just a few days ago, undergone that spiritual trial of the soul, that painful, character-forging tempering beneath the thundering, cleansing waterfall, her state of mind, her fragile self-esteem, would have probably, most definitely collapsed at this point. She would have been crushed.

But the Hana Tanaka of now was different. She was a Hana who had trained, a Hana who had faced her own despair. She was a Hana who had truly, painfully, and with a clarity that was like a knife to the heart, recognized her own pathetic weakness. And she was a Hana who had, with a fire in her soul, decided to strive forward, to become stronger.

“By being with Magical Girl Red,” Hana asked, her own voice now quiet, steady, and firm, “can I… can I become stronger?”

“Eh? Oh my. How surprising.” The Handler’s voice held a note of genuine, unfeigned surprise for the first time in their conversation. “I must confess, Miss Tanaka, I really thought you wouldn’t agree to this proposal… Whether being with Red can definitively make you stronger or not, I can’t say for certain. But you are both still in your crucial growth period. Red needs to grow, and you, Miss Tanaka, you need to grow as well. I think it’s a very, very suitable match. Growing together, fighting together, the powerful, almost sacred bonds of friendship… they will undoubtedly make you both stronger. Oh, and I forgot to mention this earlier,” the Handler added, with a casualness that was almost insulting, “Magical Girl Red, on her end, has already, and with great enthusiasm I might add, agreed to the arrangement.”

Hana took a deep, steadying breath. Magical Girl Red… she’s a very, very cute magical girl. Compared to an anomaly, a weirdo like Black, Red is a classic of classics. A true, archetypal magical girl. Even someone as legendary as Strawberry Sweetheart, if you were talking about pure, unadulterated, genre-defining orthodoxy, probably wasn’t as much of a classic ‘protagonist’ as Red is.

After all, her signature color was red. The fire of courage and hope! It was just like in the classic anime, Digimon! The main character, Tai, was the bearer of the Crest of Courage! And Angemon, he was the literal embodiment of hope! When you encounter hardship, you pave the way with courage! When you face despair, you protect yourself with hope! From the very, very beginning of Red’s dramatic debut, people on The Magical Girl Nexus forum had already, with much excitement and detailed analysis, been speculating about the immense almost limitless potential that a magical girl like Red, a true protagonist-type, could possess.

“I agree,” Hana Tanaka said, her voice now filled with a new, unshakeable resolve.

Hana chose to agree. She didn’t dislike Red. In fact, she liked her quite a bit. When she had interacted with the "cosplayer" Red before, she had also found her to be a very interesting, if slightly neurotic person. Red, underneath all that anxiety, gave off the impression of being a very easygoing, very kind person.

I have to move forward too! I can’t be left behind! Not anymore!

......

In the cold, sterile, and oppressively silent corridors of the maximum-security Esper Prison, Akari Natsume, accompanied by a tense but composed Ren Akiyama, walked with a calm, serene, and frankly quite terrifying composure.

This high-security prison, a place where nightmares were given a cot and three square meals a day, was composed of individual, heavily reinforced, isolated cells. As such, male and female fiends, great and small, were all incarcerated together in a chaotic, resentful, and probably very smelly mix. The very moment Akari, in her cute, unassuming high school uniform, appeared in the main cell block, many of the more infamous, long-term fiendish inmates began to shout, to jeer, to rattle their cages. “Strawberry Sweetheart! Well, well, well! Look what the cat dragged in! You actually dare to show your sickeningly sweet face in here!”

Ren looked at her, a little surprised. “Have you actually come here in this form, as Akari Natsume before? How do they all know you’re Strawberry Sweetheart?”

In response to Ren’s perfectly logical question, Akari just smiled, a gentle, beatific smile that seemed completely out of place in this den of villainy. “Every single time I come here, Senpai, I come in my civilian form. If I were to come here as the all-powerful Magical Girl Strawberry Sweetheart, wouldn’t that seem… a little arrogant? Like I was looking down on them?” Her logic was both flawless and utterly alien. “Because I am stronger than them, because I defeated them in battle, I feel I must not use that power to have a dialogue with them… I feel that would be fundamentally, morally incorrect. I hope, perhaps foolishly, to persuade them, to guide them, in this form. As an equal.”

It had to be said, Strawberry Sweetheart—Akari Natsume—was an incredibly, unbelievably resilient young girl. The sheer, unyielding strength of her heart, the depth of her conviction, far, far exceeded Ren’s wildest imagination. She was, in her own unique, maddeningly idealistic way, not the least bit inferior, perhaps even superior, to the battle-hardened, cynical adult, Magical Girl Black. This person… this mere sixteen-year-old girl… what in the seven circles of hell has she truly been through, to this day, to have become like this? he wondered with a fresh, profound wave of awe. All the magical girls of the Dessert Generation, all her friends, all her comrades, aside from Strawberry Sweetheart herself, had tragically, heroically perished. What kind of impossible resolve must she have possessed to have made it this far, all by herself, to have waited until the arrival of a new, uncertain generation before finally, finally choosing to retire? It was almost unthinkable.

Speaking of which, in a very subtle, and probably quite deliberately, cruelly ironic arrangement by the prison authorities, the cells of the brooding Darkstar Count and the magnificent, and now deeply humbled, Darkmoon Queen were located right next to each other.

“You… you’re Magical Girl Black’s new Supporter.” Before the Darkmoon Queen could even say anything, it was the sullen and surprisingly talkative Darkstar Count who spoke first, his voice a low, gravelly rasp from the corner of his cell. “Tell me, boy. How is Black? Has she finally, gloriously fallen into depravity and become a proper fiend yet? I do hope so.”

Ren just smirked. “Your esteemed boss is right next to you, pretty boy. Why don’t you ask her yourself? She, of all people, should know best, shouldn’t she?”

The Darkmoon Queen finally, slowly, with an air of profound weariness, spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Did she truly… did she really digest that corrupted power?”

Ren just smiled, a cold, infuriatingly serene smile. “And what do you think, Your Majesty? Magical Girl Black already told you herself, didn’t she? That your grand, tragic plan was nothing more than childish, pathetic play-acting. Did you really, truly think she was just joking with you?” He leaned in a little closer to the bars of her cell, his voice dropping to a whisper. “In fact, she also asked me to pass on another, personal message to you both. She said that you lot, you so-called ‘fiends,’ are the type of delinquent who, having been blessed with great, unearned power but having clearly missed out on a proper, fundamental education, inevitably ended up becoming these kinds of anti-social, attention-seeking delinquents. She said that you should both undergo some proper, intensive ‘labor reform’ here in this fine establishment. Maybe get a real, honest-to-goodness job for once. And,” he added, the corner of his lip twitching with suppressed amusement, “she also said that she’ll be strongly suggesting to the organization’s higher-ups later today that they significantly, perhaps even doubling, both of your mandatory work intensities. For your own good, of course.”

“…That woman… she’s not even human,” the Darkmoon Queen hissed, so utterly flabbergasted by Magical Girl Black’s sheer, bureaucratic pettiness that she had absolutely no desire, none whatsoever, to continue this ridiculous conversation with Ren.

Hearing that Magical Girl Black had not, in fact, gloriously become a fiend after all, Darkstar Count also, with a theatrical sigh of profound disappointment, lost all interest in the conversation. He simply lay down in the furthest, darkest corner of his cell and struck a pose that clearly, unequivocally said, "Leave me alone to brood in peace, you bothersome commoners."

Ren then, with a small, satisfied smile, stepped aside, leaving the time and the tense, emotionally charged space for the two fated rivals, Strawberry Sweetheart and the Darkmoon Queen.

“Ayase Yume,” Akari said, her voice soft, but firm as she looked at the defeated queen, using a name that no one else there, not even Ren, had ever heard before. “Magical Girl Black has successfully and completely digested the corrupted power of Crystal. She has shouldered all of Crystal’s ancient, festering resentment. It’s all, finally, over now.” Her voice was quiet, but it held a strange, sad finality. “And I… I have also, as you know, chosen to retire. My era, the Dessert Generation, and your era, the last echo of the Gem Generation… they have both, officially, ended. From this day forward, Yume, we are both just… ordinary people.”

Ayase Yume looked at Akari with an expression of pure, unadulterated contempt, her beautiful face a mask of bitter, biting sarcasm. “And what, precisely, is that supposed to mean, my dear Akari? Are you actually going to say something as nauseatingly, as insultingly naive as, ‘Let’s be good friends now, and maybe go shopping together sometime’? Even if we have both, tragically, lost our magnificent powers, you are still a ‘good person,’ a beloved hero, a paragon of virtue. And I… I am still an ‘evil person,’ a reviled villain, a monster. You are a pure, innocent, beautiful girl who has always lived in the warm, oppressive light of justice, and I… I am a creature of the shadows. And even if I ever, by some miracle, get out of this disgusting, sterile place, I will still be a person with a permanent, unforgivable criminal record. I will attract those disgusting, sniveling insects, those pathetic bottom-feeders, for the rest of my miserable life… Do you have any earthly idea what kind of life, what kind of pathetic, miserable existence I will be forced to face after I leave this place? Do you?!”

“…I don’t deny that your life, from this point on, will be a sad, difficult one,” Akari said, her voice still impossibly, almost cruelly unwavering. “But that, Yume, is the just punishment that the world has given you for your actions. And I do not, for a single moment, believe that simply locking you up in here, having you serve your designated sentence, will ever be a complete, or even adequate atonement for all the terrible, unforgivable things you have done in the past. And I likewise do not, and will never believe that I have the right to forgive you on behalf of all those innocent people, those precious lives, those other magical girls, who died because of you, because of your choices.”

A flicker of genuine, startled surprise appeared in Yume’s stormy eyes. “So, is that it, then? You came all the way here today just to… to mock me? The grand, brilliant plan that I thought I had wagered my entire existence on, was unceremoniously, almost contemptuously swatted away by a few of that brutish Black’s insulting slaps. She even, I’m told, found my grand despair… uninteresting. So, are you here now to laugh at my foolishness? To rub salt in my wounds?” There were still faint, ghostly white gauze pads on her pale cheeks; clearly, Black’s "disciplinary" slaps had not been light. And having lost the magical power of Moonstone, Yume could no longer instantly, effortlessly heal her wounds as she had before. She was, for the first time in a very long time, truly, physically weak.

“If I could,” Akari said suddenly, her voice now chillingly, terrifyingly calm, “if the laws of this world, if my own conscience would allow it… I would want to kill you myself. With my own two hands.” The words, coming from the sweet, gentle Akari Natsume, were shocking, terrifying. “But I… I am on the side of justice. And so, I cannot, I will not, do such a thing. I can only, frustratingly, leave your ultimate punishment to the slow, impartial hands of the law. And I must not vent my own deep, personal anger upon you. So,” a small smile touched her lips, “yes, you’re right. I suppose, in a way, I did come here today to mock you. Because, I must confess, it does make me feel just a little bit better.”

Are you being a little too brutally honest right now, Akari-san? Even for you? Ren, watching this incredible, surreal scene unfold from the side, couldn’t help but think. He almost, for a terrifying moment, thought it was Magical Girl Black standing there in Akari’s place. Then again, he mused, although Black certainly gave off an impression of brutal honesty, she wasn’t actually that honest, was she? Not really. After all, when lying to Hana about the hot spring incident, both he and Kenji had, without any prior coordination, instinctively and beautifully chosen to lie through their teeth. And their lies, their cover stories, had been remarkably similar. Was that some kind of fated, psychic telepathy between future in-laws? No, he concluded with a sigh. That was just a man’s primal, desperate instinct for self-preservation.

“Well then, now that you’re done mocking me to your heart’s content, are you going to continue?” Yume leaned wearily against the cold, hard wall of her prison cell, looking at Akari with an air of profoundl indifference. “Or do you, perhaps, have some other venomous, self-righteous words you’d like to say to me before you leave?”

“No. I’m done.” Akari’s expression remained calm, almost serene. “I just… I just wanted to see if there was any chance, any at all, of you truly, finally starting over.” Her voice was soft again, almost a whisper. “The words telling you to let go, to move on, I have said them to you so many, many times over the years. You clearly, stubbornly refuse to listen. But I… I still hope, perhaps foolishly, that you can, one day, finally let go. Especially since, now, you have absolutely nothing left to hold onto. The things you have done, Yume, they are unforgivable. I will never forget them. But I still, for some reason, hope that you can let go of your own deep-seated, all-consuming obsessions. That way, when you finally face the long, painful, and probably very lonely life that lies ahead of you, it will, at the very least, be a little more… bearable.”

“You… you really are unbelievably cruel, you know that, Strawberry Sweetheart? Are you truly ‘sweet’ at all? Or is it all just a lie?” Yume tapped a long, elegant finger against the cold stone wall of her cell. “Hey, Darkstar,” she called out to the cell next door, “this insufferable woman, she not only wants us to endure a life of endless, grinding suffering, but she also has the gall to tell us to be positive about it! What kind of twisted, sadistic person can even say such a thing? Is she saying we should be grateful for the future malice, the future cruelty, that the world will undoubtedly, inevitably show us?”

Strawberry Sweetheart—Akari Natsume—nodded, her expression still impossibly, maddeningly serene. “Yes,” she said simply. “Yes, you should. Because you are still alive. And that, in itself, is the world’s greatest, and perhaps only act of kindness towards you. You absolutely, positively must be grateful for it.”

“AKARI! FUCK YOU! I’LL FUCKING… I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU! YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS, GOODY-TWO-SHOES, HOLIER-THAN-THOU BITCH! XXXXXXXX” Yume suddenly, and with a surprising amount of venom, began to scream, cursing with a filth, a raw, gutter-level vulgarity that made even the battle-hardened Ren Akiyama’s eyebrows twitch with a mixture of shock and grudging admiration. The entire, usually noisy, chaotic prison block fell completely silent for a long, shocked moment, listening with a certain morbid fascination to Ayase Yume’s creative, profanity-laced tirade.

And yet, Akari’s smile, in the face of this torrent of abuse, was radiant. Positively beatific. “So good, Yume. So, so good,” she chirped, her voice filled with a genuine, terrifying cheerfulness. “Seeing you so wonderfully, so beautifully unhappy… it just makes me so, so incredibly happy. Remember to hold onto that precious, burning anger, okay? And remember my smile~ Don't you ever forget it! Okay? Byeee! Lovely~ Shock!” She struck Strawberry Sweetheart’s signature, peace-sign-flashing, winking, and utterly infuriating pose, which only served to enrage the now-powerless Ayase Yume even further, making her pound her fists futilely, pathetically against the cold, unyielding bars of her cell.

“Let’s go, Senpai~ My work here is done~” Akari said cheerfully, and then, taking a stunned Ren’s hand in her own, she happily led him away from the scene of her psychological carnage.

So, Ren wondered, a profound sense of bewilderment washing over him, what exactly… what in the seven circles of hell… did she actually come here to do today?