Chapter 7: Concert Tickets

“This is… What in the world?”

Ren Akiyama stared, dumbfounded, at the unexpected package that had suddenly materialized on his desk. It was officially stamped, sent from the organization. Although he had sheepishly requested some… items… from them for his new assignment, he hadn’t, in his wildest dreams, expected them to arrive so blindingly quickly. Weren’t these kinds of high-demand things supposed to be custom-ordered, with a long, bureaucratic waiting list? Or was this some kind of super-efficient Supporter perk he hadn’t read about in the manual?

After carefully, almost suspiciously, opening the package, he froze, his jaw practically hitting the floor.

Inside, nestled amongst protective bubble wrap, were several pristine, glittery magical girl concert tickets. Actual, honest-to-goodness, sold-out-everywhere tickets!

And, tucked beside them, a small, tastefully embossed greeting card with the words “New Employee Welcome Gift – Enjoy! ☆” neatly, almost mockingly, printed on it.

He almost couldn’t hold it together. He nearly wept with a mixture of shock and unadulterated joy.

Magical girl concert tickets, if one were desperate enough (and morally flexible enough) to sell them to scalpers, fetched an astronomically high price. After all, practically everyone adored magical girls with a fervent, almost religious zeal. His own dear Hana had tried, with the determination of a seasoned warrior, to snag tickets twice before, even enlisting the help of a small army of equally enthusiastic friends, but had failed spectacularly both times. In the end, her only remaining option had been to tentatively check with the shadowy, disreputable scalpers lurking in the dark corners of the internet. However, the prices they’d quoted had been so outrageously, insultingly high, so far beyond the realm of possibility for mere high school students, that both Ren and Hana had been forced to abandon their dreams, their hearts heavy with disappointment.

Magical Girl Black, bless her terrifying, misunderstood soul, had been diligently (if reluctantly) participating in this grueling concert tour for three long, exhausting days now. According to the official, iron-clad schedule, she still had another two or possibly three equally grueling days of performances to endure. Today’s concert, mercifully, had gone a tiny bit better than the previous ones, which had been unmitigated disasters of awkward silences and barely suppressed rage. Quite a few devoted “Black Otaku” (a rather intense sub-sect of hardcore fans who apparently enjoyed Black’s unique brand of terrifying charisma) had actually shown up, waving their ominous black glow sticks with disturbing enthusiasm. Although these individuals were always loudly, and rather confusingly, spouting incomprehensible gamer jargon like “power tiering analysis,” “optimal damage percentage contribution,” and “the inherent nobility of true percentage-based damage values,” they were, in their own strange, slightly unsettling way, genuine, dyed-in-the-wool fans of Magical Girl Black. Go figure.

After just two incredibly long days on the job, Ren had already keenly, painfully, felt the immense, soul-crushing difficulties of being a Supporter. There were far, far too many responsibilities to handle, too many fires to put out, too many egos to soothe. While some of the more mundane matters could, theoretically, be ignored—indeed, Black had somehow managed her chaotic magical girl activities just fine without a Supporter before his arrival—Ren wasn’t the type of person to just slack off and collect a paycheck. He was determined, with the burning passion of a rookie eager to prove his worth, to achieve some tangible, impressive results. To make a difference!

That meant he couldn’t afford to take it easy, not for a single second. And thus, his workload had ballooned to truly terrifying, almost fiend-level proportions. Tasks that hadn’t been assigned to Black previously, simply due to her glaring lack of a dedicated Supporter to manage them, were now being meticulously implemented and ruthlessly optimized through Ren’s tireless, caffeine-fueled efforts.

This “new employee welcome gift,” honestly, was pretty darn good. Amazing, even! Even if he were a soulless monster and decided to sell them to those aforementioned scalpers, he’d make a tidy, handsome profit. Two of these prime tickets could easily fetch 100 or even 120 thousand yen on the black market… Wow, the disposable income of a fully-fledged Supporter must be truly astronomical! This job has some serious perks!

And so, armed with his newfound bounty and a surge of daring, he found Black (who was currently brooding in her dressing room, radiating an aura of palpable doom) and made his humble, slightly terrifying request. “Miss Black, ahem. I, uh, seem to have received two complimentary tickets to the magical girl concert from the organization. As a… welcome gift. Yes. So, I was wondering, would it perhaps be possible for me to… ah… come in a bit later than usual tomorrow? That is, I was hoping to bring a friend with me to the concert. I’ll be in the audience, of course, providing remote moral support. And then, after your undoubtedly stellar performance ends… perhaps you could consider it a formal request for some… personal time off?” He winced internally. This is either going to go really well, or I’m about to be vaporized.

This kid! This absolute cheeky brat! Asking for a day off on his third day of work? Seriously? The audacity! The sheer, unmitigated gall!

However, Black—or rather, Kenji, the long-suffering father—was well aware, with a familiar pang of paternal resignation, that his beloved daughter, Hana, was very, very interested in this sort of sparkly, high-energy thing. It didn’t take a genius-level intellect to guess that Ren was planning to bring Hana to the concert…

To be perfectly honest, her—his—feelings were incredibly, almost painfully, complicated. He, Kenji Tanaka, a forty-something salaryman, performing on stage like some kind of gothic idol, while his own daughter, Hana, watched from the audience, probably waving a glow stick… No matter how you looked at it, shouldn’t their respective positions be completely, utterly reversed? Shouldn’t he be the one in the audience, proudly (and slightly embarrassingly) cheering for Hana? The irony was a bitter pill to swallow.

But, damn it all, she couldn’t refuse. Not when it involved Hana’s happiness.

When Hana had been desperately trying to get tickets before, Black had actually, secretly, tried to help her, even going so far as to awkwardly ask some of his more well-connected (and significantly less terrifying) friends at his regular company for assistance. But, alas, to no avail. The demand was simply too insane. Come to think of it, though… if she, Magical Girl Black, the star of the show (however reluctant), simply asked the organizers for some complimentary tickets… surely they’d be able to provide some, right? Why hadn’t she thought of that glaringly obvious solution before…? Sometimes, my own denseness astounds me.

“Fine.” The word was a low grumble, but it was an affirmative.

She answered Ren’s audacious request with her usual brevity. “However,” she added, her eyes narrowing slightly, “according to your own brilliant, highly detailed analysis, there’s a significant, almost certain possibility of a fiend attack either tomorrow or the day after, correct?”

“Yes, Miss Black, that is my current assessment, based on available intelligence and fiend activity patterns.” Ren replied, his voice once again all business.

“And you still plan to bring your… girlfriend… into a potential warzone?” Black’s tone was laced with a heavy dose of skepticism.

“Wh-what…” The direct, almost accusatory mention of “girlfriend” made the still somewhat naive, endearingly flustered young Ren blush a furious, beetroot red. But he quickly, admirably, composed himself, his eyes meeting Black’s with a sudden, surprising blaze of confidence. He raised a clenched fist, as if making a solemn, heroic declaration to the heavens:

“I believe, with all my heart, in your incredible strength, Miss Black! And I also believe in the accuracy of my judgment! I am absolutely certain that, together, we can protect everyone, concert-goers and performers alike! The concert absolutely cannot be canceled; that would be a victory for the fiends! If such an attack is indeed bound to happen… then let us join hands, metaphorically speaking, and resolve the matter beautifully, efficiently, and with extreme prejudice! And besides…” a charmingly determined grin spread across his face, “I also want to… you know… show her my cool, capable, Supporter side! It’s important for morale!”

How… how can this ridiculous, overly earnest brat be so damn cool sometimes! It’s infuriating!

He’s almost… almost on par with how I was in my glorious, misspent youth… Actually, no, that’s a lie. Even when I was young and foolish, I could never have uttered such confident, unabashedly bold words with a straight face. I was too busy being an awkward, angst-ridden mess.

Regardless… he’s doing all of this for my daughter, too. For Hana’s happiness. The thought sent a strange, warm pang through Kenji’s cynical heart.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile involuntarily touched the corners of Black’s lips, but she quickly, expertly, suppressed it, schooling her features back into their usual intimidating mask, as if the fleeting moment of softness had never even happened. “Hmph. Then let’s do it that way, then! Don’t mess it up, rookie!”

Ren, looking immensely relieved, busied himself for a while longer, efficiently processing some urgent documents and coordinating logistics, and then, with a polite bow, he finally left.

Actually, she—Kenji—was still physically located in S-City; her supposed “business trip” hadn’t actually taken her very far from home at all. She felt a sudden, sharp pang of longing to just go home, to see Hana, even if it was just for a few minutes. But she knew, with a weary certainty, that her daughter probably wouldn’t welcome her with open arms. More likely with a slammed door and a series of monosyllabic grunts. After a moment’s heavy hesitation, Black—Kenji—pulled out her personal smartphone.

She opened her contacts list, her thumb hovering over the names. Her gaze fell upon the name pinned at the very top, a name that always brought a lump to her throat: “Wifey.”

“…It’s been fifteen long years already… Honey,” she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. “If you were somehow reincarnated, if you came back to this crazy world… you’d probably be about Hana’s age by now, wouldn’t you?” She let out a ragged sigh, the weight of years pressing down on her. Then, her gaze, clouded with sorrow, fell on the contact labeled simply “Daughter.”

After another long, agonizing hesitation, she finally, reluctantly, put the phone down. She could almost hear Hana’s impatient, exasperated tone in her mind’s ear—that rebellious phase was truly, utterly terrifying! The sweet, adoring daughter who used to idolize her, who used to cling to her so much, who thought her papa was the greatest man in the world… that same daughter could now, without a moment’s hesitation, utter soul-crushing words like “disgusting, embarrassing middle-aged man”… The pain was a familiar ache in her chest.

But… wait a minute. A magical girl!

If I approach this from that angle… a completely different angle…

A sudden, brilliant, possibly insane idea sparked in Black’s mind. Her eyes, usually so dark and brooding, gradually began to light up with a manic, hopeful gleam. If she didn’t interact with her daughter as her boring, embarrassing father, but as the cool, mysterious, and undeniably powerful Magical Girl Black… could she perhaps, finally, understand Hana better? Could she bridge this awful, ever-widening chasm between them?

As the old saying goes, there’s always a generation gap, a fundamental disconnect, between elders and youngsters. She was painfully, acutely aware that she was hopelessly behind the times, that her way of thinking, her values, often differed wildly from those of today’s hyper-connected, trend-obsessed youth. But as Magical Girl Black, as a figure of mystery and power, wouldn’t she be able to interact more freely, more authentically, with young people? If she could somehow figure out what Hana was really thinking, what she truly cared about… then perhaps, just perhaps, she could find a way to repair their fractured father-daughter relationship.

After all—that clueless but well-meaning Ren had already, hilariously, mistaken her for a delicate-hearted, misunderstood young maiden! It was perfectly, entirely plausible that her own daughter might fall for the same misconception! Yes! This could work! This is genius! Pure, unadulterated genius!

This self-proclaimed numb, world-weary middle-aged girl suddenly felt her cynical heart begin to burn with a fiery, almost youthful passion. She felt, with a surge of manic excitement, that this crazy, harebrained scheme could totally, absolutely work! It had to work!

Involuntarily, almost giddily, she began to feel a surge of genuine, unadulterated excitement for tomorrow’s concert. For the first time in days, she wasn’t dreading it!

She quickly, furtively, used a different, untraceable burner phone number to contact Ren. “Hey, kid. Got a question for ya. What songs do you think I should, hypothetically, sing tomorrow? Something that people would, y’know, easily like… or, maybe something that makes it easier to, like, connect with young people… or, I dunno, maybe something… just a little bit… cuter? Asking for a friend. Obviously.”

Ren, upon receiving the cryptic, out-of-character message, was stunned into momentary silence. Then, a slow, relieved, almost fond smile spread across his face. Heh. Even though she’s that Miss Black, the terrifying, fiend-pulverizing engine of destruction… deep down, she really is an adorable, slightly awkward magical girl after all! How can characters like magical girls even exist in this world? They’re just… they’re just too cute, too precious, in every conceivable sense. If I didn’t already have someone I liked, someone as wonderful as Hana… I’d probably, definitely, try to pursue Miss Black, wouldn’t I? She’s… intriguing.

With such warm, slightly bewildered, emotional thoughts, Ren boarded the bus home, his mind already buzzing with potential song suggestions for his new, surprisingly complex charge.

He’d look up some suitable, "cute" song suggestions for Black later. Right now… he had a date with destiny. Or at least, with Hana.

“Ren! You’re here!”

Hana, flinging open the door with her usual dramatic flair, was visibly shocked to see him standing on her doorstep. She quickly, almost guiltily, pulled out her phone and glanced at the time: nine o’clock at night! Nine! On a school night! (Well, not really, but still!)

Her cheeks instantly flushed a vibrant, adorable crimson, and a strange, almost dangerously expectant glint appeared in her wide, sparkling eyes. “You… you’re coming over at this hour… what are you… what exactly are you… planning to do, Ren Akiyama?” she asked, her voice a breathless, flustered whisper.

Her hands were clasped tightly behind her back, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her cute, frilly skirt. She looked incredibly, adorably shy and flustered, like a startled kitten.

No way… is he actually planning to… while my father’s conveniently away… finally, finally cross that forbidden, unspoken line with me?! Is this it?! Is this THE moment?!

The overactive, romance-novel-fueled mind of a young girl in the full, glorious bloom of youth immediately conjured up all sorts of vivid, sparkly, heart-poundingly romantic scenarios, and she became incredibly, delightfully bashful, her heart doing frantic somersaults in her chest.

Ren, oblivious to the whirlwind of romantic speculation raging in Hana’s head, simply had a gentle, enigmatic smile on his face. He said, with a deliberately mysterious, almost teasing air, “Well? Aren’t you going to invite me in to sit for a while, Hana-chan?”

“Ah! O-o-of course! Y-you, please, come in! Make yourself at home!” Hana stammered, practically tripping over her own feet as she ushered him inside.

Ah! Oh my god! I just let him in! Just like that! Nine o’clock at night, a young man and a young woman, all alone in a room together… As long as Father doesn’t find out, Ren’s parents definitely wouldn’t mind… they probably expect it by now…

Am I… am I really going to say goodbye to my innocent, carefree maidenhood tonight?! Is this how it happens?!

But… but she wasn’t mentally prepared! She hadn’t even picked out a cute outfit! Or done her hair! This was a disaster! A wonderful, terrifying disaster!

And so, her mind in a complete, blissful daze, her thoughts a chaotic jumble of romantic clichés and panicked preparations, Hana didn’t even know how she ended up sitting stiffly beside Ren on the living room sofa, her heart pounding like a drum.

“Hana? You okay? What are you thinking about so intensely?” Ren asked, noticing her rather dazed expression.

“Ah! N-nothing! I wasn’t thinking about anything at all! Not a single thing!” the blushing girl immediately snapped back to reality, her voice a little too loud, a little too defensive. “And don’t misunderstand me, okay! I definitely wasn’t thinking about any of those… those shameless, inappropriate things! Not at all! Why would you even suggest such a thing?!”

Ren paused, a look of dawning comprehension (and slight alarm) spreading across his face. “Hana… what exactly did you think… I came here at this hour to do?” he asked slowly.

“I… Um… Well…” Hana shrank into the corner of the sofa, looking at Ren with a hilariously endearing mixture of wide-eyed fear and hopeful, bashful anticipation.

Usually, most red-blooded young men would interpret this kind of adorable, flustered display as a blatant, if unintentional, invitation. A green light.

However, Hana, bless her innocent, romance-addled heart, seemed completely, utterly oblivious to how incredibly suggestive and alluring she appeared at that very moment.

Her current state, all wide eyes and trembling lips, made Ren’s mouth feel a little dry; after all, he wasn’t some kind of emotionless robot or a saint carved from stone. He was a teenage boy. But he resolutely, admirably (and with considerable effort), suppressed his baser, more hormonal thoughts and, instead, reached into his pocket and took out two slim, rectangular objects.

“Here! Look!” he said, his voice perhaps a little too bright as he quickly got to the actual point of his late-night visit. “Tickets for the Magical Girl S-City Tour Concert! The one you’ve been dying to go to! How about we go together tomorrow? My treat!” If this dangerously ambiguous, hormonally charged atmosphere continued for even a second longer, he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to remain a perfect, chivalrous gentleman for much longer. He was only human, after all.

An expression of utter, unadulterated shock washed over Hana’s face, instantly banishing all thoughts of impending romantic doom (or bliss). She practically leaped off the sofa like it was spring-loaded and peered closely, almost reverently, at the two precious tickets in Ren’s hand. “No way! It’s… it’s really them! The actual tickets! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!”

Ren chuckled. “Would I come all this way, in the dead of night, just to trick you with fake tickets, Hana?”

“Oh my god! Ren! You’re literally a god! A ticket-providing deity! I was even thinking about using my magic to try and forge two tickets to get us in! But then I remembered every single ticket has a unique serial number, and I was so afraid of having the same number as someone else and getting arrested! How on earth did you get these?! Did you sell a kidney?!”

The dangerously ambiguous, romantically charged atmosphere that had filled the room just moments ago vanished completely, swept away in an instant, replaced only by the pure, unadulterated surprise and joyous, infectious laughter appropriate for a girl her age who had just been handed the keys to her personal nirvana.

“Think of it as… a small, early birthday gift,” Ren said, a warm smile on his face.

Being looked at with such wide-eyed, unabashedly adoring eyes by the girl he liked—anyone, absolutely anyone, would feel a little smug, a little puffed up with pride, right? Ren Akiyama was no exception. He put on an air of exaggerated, nonchalant coolness. “Pfft. It was nothing, really! A mere trifle! No difficulty at all for a Supporter of my caliber! You can worship me more, you know! I don’t mind!”

“Wow! Ren, you’re the best!” Hana became even more excited, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Ooh! Ooh! I know! I want to wear one of my magical girl cosplays tomorrow! You know I have, like, a million of them! Which one do you think would be best? Decisions, decisions!”

“Um… well…” Ren considered for a moment, trying to keep a straight face. “Considering it’s Strawberry Sweetheart and Magical Girl Black’s main stage tomorrow, perhaps cosplaying as one of them would be the most… thematically appropriate? And might get you some extra attention from the cameras?” He had, after all, seen quite a few enthusiastic girls cosplaying as Strawberry Sweetheart at the concert today. Someone had even managed to get Strawberry Sweetheart to sign their elaborate costume during a meet-and-greet.

Hana nodded vigorously, her eyes shining with inspiration. “You’re a genius, Ren! A fashion genius! Okay! I’ll go try them on for you right now! You can help me pick! Don’t rush me! Wait right here! This is super important!”

Hana then dashed excitedly into her room, probably to unleash a hurricane of glitter and frills.

Sitting alone on the sofa, a fond smile playing on his lips, Ren thought for a moment and then quickly sent a message to Magical Girl Black: “Update: Song selections have been forwarded to the event organizers for approval. They should get back to us shortly. And also… a slightly more… unconventional query, Miss Black. Would you, by any chance, like to have your own dedicated cosplayers present at the venue tomorrow? For moral support? And branding opportunities, of course.”

Black, receiving the unexpected message on her burner phone, looked utterly puzzled. My own… cosplayers? What in the fresh hell is this kid talking about now?

“Fine. Whatever. These songs will do, I guess…” She quickly sent a list of songs she had grudgingly picked from the ones Ren had painstakingly compiled and sent over earlier. Then she replied to his bizarre cosplay query, “That sort of thing… it really doesn’t matter to me. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on the mission.” Cosplayers. Honestly. Kids these days.