Chapter 5: The Contract is Sealed

Magical Girl Black was currently locked in her room, engaged in a desperate, high-stakes internal battle. Brain, engage! Self-preservation protocols, activate! This is NOT a drill!

As a seasoned veteran of the brutal corporate battlefield, she—that is, he, Kenji Tanaka, deep down inside this frilly, terrifying magical girl persona—knew perfectly well that to accomplish any complex, sanity-threatening task successfully, one must first clearly, unequivocally, define their primary objectives. Failure to do so resulted in chaos, despair, and probably a very awkward conversation with HR.

The most fundamental, absolutely non-negotiable, life-or-death critical goal was—

“I absolutely, positively, with every fiber of my rapidly fraying sanity, CANNOT let my true identity be exposed!”

There was no way, not in this universe or any parallel one, she could let this earnest, well-meaning kid, Ren Akiyama, find out that the fearsome, fiend-pulverizing Magical Girl Black was actually… gulp… the unassuming, slightly paunchy middle-aged man from next door! That she was, in fact, his girlfriend’s FATHER! The sheer, unadulterated horror!

If that particular cataclysmic, world-ending secret ever, ever got out…

Kenji Tanaka didn’t even dare to fully imagine the sheer, unmitigated, apocalyptic horror of that scenario! His brain simply refused to process it, throwing up a mental blue screen of death.

His daughter, Hana, his precious, rebellious, already-too-judgmental Hana, would undoubtedly look at him with the kind of horrified, soul-shattering disgust usually reserved for actual, literal, slime-dripping monsters from the abyss. Their already strained, practically arctic father-daughter relationship was hanging by the thinnest, most frayed thread as it was. If Hana discovered this… she might actually, genuinely, irrevocably disown him! Sever all ties! Erase him from the family registry! Change her name! Move to a different continent!

Was he, at the ripe, distinguished age of forty-something, doomed to become a lonely, isolated, pathetically tragic old man, shunned by his own child, forced to eat instant ramen alone for the rest of his miserable days? The thought was too bleak to bear.

And then there was his company… his bewildered colleagues… Ren’s poor, unsuspecting parents… He couldn’t even begin to fathom the city-wide, inter-dimensional fallout. If something like this truly, catastrophically happened, he might as well just find a sturdy, conveniently located tree and hang himself! Better to die a swift, physical death than suffer a complete, utter, and agonizingly prolonged social annihilation. Yes, definitely. No question about it.

So, while he’d been strong-armed and emotionally blackmailed into reluctantly accepting this godforsaken, career-ending assignment, he absolutely, positively, under pain of extreme social death and eternal familial shame, could not let his true identity be revealed. That was Priority Number One. Engraved in stone. Non-negotiable.

The second objective, almost as crucial, though slightly less likely to result in immediate suicidal ideation, was to protect Ren. At all costs.

After all, that earnest, slightly clueless boy was the person his precious daughter liked. Cherished, even, in her own tsundere way. He had to protect the kid, no matter what. It was his fatherly duty! (Even if said father was currently a magical girl.) Besides, he’d watched Ren Akiyama grow up from a scrawny, knee-scraping kid into a genuinely good, outstanding, if somewhat overly analytical, young man. He considered Ren practically family, future son-in-law or not. Since the kid was stubbornly determined to pursue this dangerous, often thankless, path of being a Supporter, Kenji, in whatever ridiculous form he currently inhabited, could not, would not, allow any tragedy to befall him. Not on his watch.

Having clearly, and with no small amount of internal screaming, defined these two critically important points, Magical Girl Black finally, finally, began to calm down, a fragile sense of clarity washing over her like a cool breeze after a panic attack. She knew what she had to do. Or at least, she knew what she couldn't do. That, at least, was a small, pathetic relief.

Just as she was steeling her nerves, about to pull open the door and unleash some suitably intimidating, world-weary magical girl pronouncement…

A voice, surprisingly firm and filled with youthful determination, came from the other side of the door. “Miss Black! I know you probably don’t want me, a rookie with no field experience, as your Supporter! But please, no matter what, just give me a chance to speak! I will convince you to choose me! I swear it on my future career!”

Oh? Well, what do you know. Speak of the devil, and he practically shoves a fluffy pillow under your head when you’re about to collapse from stress-induced exhaustion? Perfect timing, kid.

This boy is as stubbornly, almost annoyingly, determined as ever, isn’t he? A simple, door-slamming rejection clearly isn’t enough to shake his resolve, huh? Kids these days. Well, no matter what persuasive, probably overly earnest spiel Ren launched into, all Black had to do was grumble a bit, act suitably unimpressed, then reluctantly "give in" and agree to let him be her Supporter. Easy peasy. I’ve handled tougher corporate negotiations with less coffee.

Controlling her expression with the skill of a seasoned poker player, schooling her features into a mask of bored, world-weary annoyance (which wasn’t entirely an act at this point), Magical Girl Black yanked the door open again with a dramatic flourish. “Alright, kid! What else do you possibly have to say for yourself that I haven’t already heard a thousand times from other overeager rookies! Spit it out! And make it quick! I don’t have all day!”

“Th-thank you so much for being willing to hear me out, Ma’am!” Ren, ever the polite and respectful young man, bowed deeply, almost a full ninety degrees. He’s going to give himself a concussion if he keeps this up. “I understand that someone like me, with no practical, real-world experience, might seem… unreliable… and that it might be difficult for you to place your esteemed trust in my abilities. But I still sincerely, desperately hope you’ll grant me an opportunity for a proper, constructive dialogue.”

“Hah… Such an arrogant, hopelessly naive little brat, thinking he knows the first thing about the harsh realities of this world.” Black scoffed, her voice dripping with carefully cultivated disdain. But then, with a dismissive wave of her hand, she gestured towards the interior of the room. “Fine, whatever. Get in here then! And don’t touch anything!” She stepped aside, creating a narrow, almost grudging, opening for Ren to enter the temporary, rather spartan room she was currently occupying.

Ren’s gaze, sharp and analytical, quickly swept around the sparsely furnished room. He noticed only one slightly battered travel bag tucked into a corner. It looked vaguely familiar, but then again, travel bags were all pretty much the same, ubiquitous and utterly unremarkable. So, that couldn’t be considered any kind of significant clue. Many people didn’t even buy their own travel bags; they just borrowed them or got them as freebies. Magical Girl Black, it seemed, wasn't like many other young women (or so he assumed she was young) who would personalize their space with cute, distinctive items. He’d heard, for instance, through the Supporter grapevine, that the ever-popular Strawberry Sweetheart always carried an arsenal of adorable, sparkly stickers with her when she was out on assignments, presumably to bedazzle fiends into submission.

Ren continuously, almost obsessively, updated his internal, highly detailed psychological assessment of Magical Girl Black. Hmm. Minimalist. Or perhaps just intensely private. Possibly a secret slob? No, the room is too clean for that. Intriguing.

“Miss Black,” Ren began, his voice earnest as he pulled out a neatly folded, official-looking document from his inner jacket pocket, “this is my official examination transcript from the Supporter Qualification Board. Although I readily admit I don’t have any actual field experience yet, my academic achievements, my dedication, and my inherent capacity for learning, can be clearly demonstrated by these consistently high results.”

He actually felt a fresh wave of apprehension wash over him. After all, just barging in and practically shoving his report card in her face like some overachieving elementary schooler might come across as unbearably arrogant, a desperate, transparent attempt to show off. It probably wasn’t the wisest, most subtle approach. But he was rapidly running out of options at this point; he had to showcase his strengths, any strengths, anything at all to make this intimidating, door-slamming Magical Girl Black acknowledge his potential and not immediately blacklist him from the entire hero support industry.

The girl—Black—took the transcript with a delicate, almost hesitant touch, her eyes scanning the impressive, almost unbelievable list of scores. Good heavens above, these grades are terrifyingly, inhumanly good! If my Hana could get even half these marks, I’d probably faint from sheer, unadulterated joy and relief! This kid is a monster!

“Mr. Ren Akiyama, is it?” she asked, her voice surprisingly neutral, almost devoid of its earlier aggression, as if she’d gleaned his name from the header of the transcript. This small, almost imperceptible change in tone made Ren breathe an internal sigh of immense relief. It was, after all, the first time Black hadn’t spoken to him in that overtly aggressive, impatient, ready-to-commit-violence snarl. Ren considered this significant progress. A tiny, hard-won victory in the battle for employment.

“Yes, Ma’am! That’s me! I am Ren Akiyama,” he replied immediately, his voice filled with renewed, almost puppy-like earnestness. “Miss Black, I know you are an exceptionally powerful, highly respected Esper. Being paired with a completely inexperienced Supporter like me, who lacks any practical work experience whatsoever, might understandably cause you… dissatisfaction. Frustration, even. However, please, I implore you, believe in my ability to learn quickly! My adaptability! My sheer, unadulterated grit! If nothing else—given the time and the opportunity, I swear on my honor, I will grow into a Supporter who will not only meet, but hopefully, one day, even exceed your esteemed expectations!” Please don’t fire me! Please don’t fire me!

Wow, you’re laying it on a bit thick there, aren’t you, kiddo! Such passion! Such drama!

Kenji had, of course, already resigned himself, with much internal groaning and gnashing of teeth, to accepting Ren as his Supporter. There was no other choice, really, not if he wanted to keep his identity secret and Ren safe. So, naturally, being the slightly sadistic, world-weary adult that he was (at least internally), Black decided to make things a little… difficult… for him first. A little hazing, if you will. A test of character. Or maybe she was just bored.

Although Ren was undeniably a good kid, a fine, upstanding young man, the kind you’d be proud to introduce to your parents (if you weren’t secretly his girlfriend’s magical girl father, that is)!

Magical Girl Black, however, aside from being nominally, contractually obligated to be on the side of justice, could hardly be described as a "good person" by any conventional definition. After all, under normal circumstances, most people wouldn’t have the heart, or the sheer audacity, to speak harshly to the adorable, walking moe-blob that was Strawberry Sweetheart. Yet, Black would curse and snarl and generally act like a belligerent delinquent without a moment’s hesitation. So—from an outsider’s perspective, Magical Girl Black was, unequivocally, a very bad, very scary, and probably slightly unhinged girl.

Perhaps it was because Kenji Tanaka, the perpetually put-upon, chronically stressed middle-aged corporate drone, had suppressed his frustrations and resentments for so many agonizingly long years that, upon becoming a magical girl, all those pent-up, toxic emotions were finally, explosively, unleashed. Or perhaps, this raw, unfiltered aggression was Kenji’s true, unvarnished nature when he wasn’t diligently wearing the carefully constructed, socially acceptable masks of "responsible father," "respected elder," or "competent adult." Who could say? Psychology was complicated.

In any case, towards her beloved daughter’s earnest, unsuspecting boyfriend, she flashed a wide, arrogant, and utterly terrifying grin that promised pain and suffering. “Alright, kid. You talk a big game about ‘time and opportunity’! Well, let me ask you this: why in the ever-loving world should I, Magical Girl Black, be the one to graciously bestow them upon you, huh? I just had a little chat with headquarters about your… illustrious… file, you know. You little brat, you’re not even a legal adult yet, are you? If there’s one thing in this world that I truly, deeply despise, it’s these so-called ‘child prodigies,’ these insufferable ‘geniuses’ like you, waltzing in here, passing these ridiculous Supporter exams before you’re even old enough to legally buy a beer! And then you have the gall to shove your perfect report card in my face like this! What’s that supposed to mean, huh? Are you trying to provoke me? Mock me? Think you’re hot stuff now, do you, Mr. Perfect Grades? Pathetic! Absolutely, utterly laughable!”

Ren, suddenly, shockingly, on the receiving end of this vicious, unprovoked verbal assault and blatantly, almost cartoonishly, deliberately making things difficult—although the harsh words stung like a swarm of angry hornets, felt his inner confidence, paradoxically, inexplicably, soar even higher! His spirit ignited!  

If he had to state a reason… it was because his judgment, his brilliant, insightful psychological profile, was proving to be absolutely, one hundred percent correct! She’s testing me! This is a classic tsundere power move!

Although her words were harsh, almost venomous, and filled with blatant, over-the-top provocation, she hadn’t actually said the magic words: "get the hell out" or "I have absolutely no intention of hiring your sorry rookie ass." Her rejection wasn’t firm! It wasn’t absolute! It was a classic defense mechanism! A cry for understanding, hidden beneath layers of aggression!

In other words, this girl… this misunderstood, tormented soul… she could be persuaded! She wanted to be persuaded!

She was, in fact, secretly, desperately, craving someone, anyone, who could understand her, who could see past her tough exterior to the gentle, fragile heart within! But because she was terrified of strangers, of emotional vulnerability, of being hurt again, she used this aggressive, hostile attitude as a protective shell! A spiky, impenetrable carapace! To avoid getting hurt! It was, in essence, the textbook, dictionary definition of a "tsundere"! Aha! I knew it! My genius knows no bounds!

If that was truly the case, then this job wasn’t out of his reach! Not by a long shot! He could totally, definitely win her over! He just needed the right approach! The perfect combination of empathy, understanding, and unwavering determination!

In that electrifying instant, Ren’s gaze sharpened, his eyes gleaming with a newfound, almost terrifying intensity. He suddenly exuded an aura of a master strategist, a seasoned political power player, a veritable king calmly surveying his soon-to-be-conquered domain. “If that’s all the ammunition you’ve got, Black,” he declared, his voice ringing with unwavering, almost arrogant conviction, “then mere words like these, however harsh, are nowhere near enough to make me back down! You’ll have to try harder than that!”

“Wh-what…?” Black stammered, momentarily, genuinely taken aback by his sudden, almost aggressive shift in demeanor. Where did this cocky brat come from?!

“Just as you’ve undoubtedly reviewed my file, Miss Black, I, too, have taken the liberty of thoroughly, meticulously reviewing yours!” Ren pressed on, his confidence building with every dramatic, carefully enunciated word. “Your public reputation, shall we say, isn’t exactly stellar, is it? The people who vote for you in those silly popularity polls are mostly the hardcore ‘power level-supremacism’ types—those who worship overwhelming, destructive strength above all else. There’s also a significant, and rather vocal, contingent of players from that recently popular, and frankly somewhat derivative, mobile game, ‘Magical Girl Brawl,’ where you’re apparently an ridiculously overpowered, meta-defining SSR-tier character. Those obsessive gamers vote for you too, naturally. But the general public? The average citizen on the street? They universally perceive you as arrogant, frenzied, dangerously unstable, and completely, utterly at odds with the traditional, cherished image of a kind, gentle, and reassuringly sparkly magical girl!”

What in the ever-loving, fiend-infested world is he talking about now? Is he actively trying to get himself fired by insulting me further? What’s his crazy angle here? Is this some kind of bizarre reverse psychology I’m too old and tired to understand?

“BUT!” Before Black could formulate a suitably scathing, career-ending retort, Ren had already, with impeccable dramatic timing, delivered his pivotal, game-changing "but."

“Magical Girl Black! Your actual, quantifiable performance record is what’s truly, astonishingly, breathtakingly brilliant! A one-hundred-percent, flawless fiend subjugation rate! Not a single failure! And a collateral damage rate of a mere three percent! Three! That’s far, far below the magical girl average of a rather shameful fifteen percent! You are completely, diametrically different from how you appear on the surface! You, Miss Black… you are, in fact, an incredibly delicate, thoughtful, and surprisingly considerate young woman!”

He struck a dramatic pose, like a flamboyant lawyer in a courtroom drama delivering his final, irrefutable closing argument, or perhaps like that certain diminutive, bespectacled detective, pointing an accusatory finger with unwavering conviction as he triumphantly declared, “There is only one truth!” He delivered his definitive, psychologically astute verdict on Magical Girl Black’s true, hidden nature with absolute, unshakeable, and slightly terrifying certainty.

To this… astonishing… declaration, Miss Black, the forty-something salaryman trapped in a magical girl’s body, desperately, internally, wanted to scream—

WRONG! SO COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY, CATASTROPHICALLY WRONG, YOU GULLIBLE, OVERCONFIDENT IDIOT! SO WRONG IT’S NOT EVEN REMOTELY FUNNY! YOU’RE SO FAR OFF THE MARK, YOU’RE PRACTICALLY IN A DIFFERENT DIMENSION! A DIMENSION WHERE PSYCHOLOGY MAJORS ARE APPARENTLY HANDING OUT DEGREES IN CRACKER JACK BOXES!

A delicate-hearted, considerate young maiden?

Me? Are you serious? ME?! A jaded, cynical, forty-something-year-old corporate drone, completely numb to the core from the relentless, soul-crushing daily grind of adult life, whose only remaining ambition in this miserable existence is to somehow raise his rebellious daughter into a semi-functional adult and then quietly, gratefully, wait for the sweet release of retirement? You can actually, with a straight face, use the word ‘delicate’ to describe me? Have you lost your mind?!

I thought your psychology scores were supposedly off-the-charts perfect… Are you actually any good at this Supporter thing, kid?! Or is this whole Supporter qualification exam just a load of impressive-sounding, utterly meaningless bull, all flash and absolutely no substance? Because right now, I’m seriously questioning your credentials!

If it had been a complete stranger spouting this utter nonsense, Kenji Tanaka would have undoubtedly, and with considerable, almost gleeful relish, told them to get lost, take a long walk off a short pier, and never darken his doorstep again. But this… this was Ren. His daughter’s Ren. And the more he thought about it, the more Kenji felt, with a sinking sense of paternal dread, that he absolutely couldn’t let this well-meaning but dangerously clueless boy go off and become someone else’s Supporter, only to get chewed up, spat out, and probably traumatized for life by the harsh realities of the hero support industry.

After all, it was far better for Ren to stumble, make mistakes, and learn some hard lessons here, under his (secret, reluctant) supervision, than to make a complete fool of himself and potentially get seriously hurt out there with actual, competent strangers who wouldn’t coddle him. As an elder, as Hana’s long-suffering father, he had a certain, unspoken obligation to guide and nurture the boy, even if it meant enduring his hilariously inaccurate psychological assessments. Ren was probably just tragically lacking in real-world social experience. He hadn’t met enough truly difficult, deceptive, or just plain weird people yet, which was why he was making such laughably, spectacularly inaccurate judgments. Yes, that must be it. I’m doing this for his own good. I’m such a good dad. Secretly.

Of course, her prolonged, stunned, open-mouthed silence was naturally, and with unwavering confidence, misinterpreted by Ren as absolute confirmation that he had hit the nail squarely, perfectly on the head. She’s speechless! Rendered mute by the sheer accuracy of my insightful analysis! I’ve seen through her tough, spiky exterior to the gentle, misunderstood soul cowering within! My genius is truly terrifying!

“So, Magical Girl Black! Please, I implore you, believe in me!” he urged, his eyes shining with earnest conviction as he extended a hand towards her with a brilliant, hopeful, and slightly smug smile. “I know, I just know, with every fiber of my being, that I can become a truly great, understanding, and supportive Supporter for you! We can do this! Together!”

Miss Black really, really, desperately wanted to say something, anything, to disabuse him of this ridiculous, almost delusional notion. To tell him he was so wrong, it was almost adorable. But the atmosphere, the sheer, unadulterated force of Ren’s earnest, unwavering conviction, had reached a critical, almost surreal point. She honestly didn’t know what else to do. What could she do? So, with an internal sigh that could rival a category five hurricane in its intensity, she reluctantly, almost painfully, reached out her own hand and allowed it to be grasped firmly by Ren’s. Oh, the humanity.

“If you make me think for one single, solitary second that you’re not up to the task, kid, I will personally request a replacement from headquarters, you got that?” she threatened, trying to inject some of her usual menace and gravel into her voice, though it came out sounding a bit strained. In reality, she wouldn’t actually do that, not to Ren. Never to Ren. But adults—so often, when dealing with complete strangers, they could be surprisingly, refreshingly honest and direct about their feelings and expectations. Yet, when faced with their own acquaintances, their own family, their own children, they often felt inexplicably compelled to act stern, almost unreasonably harsh. It was a baffling paradox of human nature.

After all, theirs was a single-parent household. A fact that weighed heavily on Kenji’s mind. And the heart of the fearsome Magical Girl Black was, in reality, the weary, overburdened heart of Kenji Tanaka, a single father doing his damnedest. He often wondered, in his quieter, more melancholic moments, how his beloved wife, if she were still alive, would have chosen to raise their spirited, challenging child. Children from single-parent families, he knew, often faced unique, unhealthy developmental challenges. And the single parent themselves… their growth, their emotional well-being, was often just as stunted, just as unhealthy, in its own quiet, unacknowledged way.

At this particular moment, Kenji Tanaka, magical girl extraordinaire, had not yet come to fully, consciously realize this painful, fundamental truth about his own life. He was too busy trying not to have a panic attack in front of his future son-in-law.

A radiant, triumphant smile spread across Ren’s face, illuminating his features. “So, does this mean… the contract is officially, formally, and irrevocably sealed?” he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of triumphant relief and eager anticipation.

Kenji, despite everything, despite the absurdity, despite the looming threat of social annihilation, couldn’t help but let a small, almost imperceptible, and utterly weary smile touch his own lips (hidden, of course, beneath Black’s perpetually stoic, intimidating expression). “Yeah, kid,” Black grumbled, her voice rough. “The contract… it’s sealed. Congratulations. Or condolences. Take your pick.”

And so, as their two hands clasped—one small and delicate (and secretly belonging to a middle-aged man), the other young, strong, and filled with misguided confidence—the intricate, often hilariously ironic, gears of fate began to turn with a resounding, ominous click from that moment onward. This is going to be a disaster.

......

“Ren~ ☆ How was your super important studying today? Did you learn lots and lots of super important, top-secret Supporter stuff? Spill the tea! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧”

Hana Tanaka’s text message, complete with an excessive amount of emojis, pinged on Ren’s phone later that evening, a beacon of cheerful normalcy in his suddenly very complicated life.

“It went great! Productive day! I learned a ton. And hey, just a reminder, I’ll still come by to drag you out of bed for school tomorrow morning, okay? So don’t you dare even think about oversleeping, sleepyhead! ~ I’m watching you! (¬‿¬)” Ren’s reply was light and teasing, his tone like he was coaxing a small, slightly rebellious child (which, to be fair, wasn’t entirely inaccurate).

“…Ugh! Can’t you just let me off the hook for that one little thing? Just this once? It’s a super rare chance with Dad finally out of the house on his boring business trip, you know. Freedom! Sweet, sweet freedom! (づ￣ ³￣)づ”

“Nope! Sorry, Hana! Mr. Tanaka specifically, and with great emphasis, asked me to look after you while he’s away. I have to fulfill my solemn responsibilities as your designated guardian and chief annoyance, right? Duty calls! Besides, it’s fun.”

“You! You’re impossible! Utterly, completely impossible! Fine! But I’m definitely not getting up tomorrow! You’ll see! I’ll barricade the door! I’ll feign a mysterious illness! I’ll… I’ll set up booby traps! (▼ヘ▼#)”

And like that, the young man and the young woman, miles apart yet inexorably connected by a tangled thread of affection, exasperation, and shared history, both found themselves smiling, blissfully unaware of the truly epic levels of awkwardness that fate had just gleefully set in motion.