Chapter Text
The Constitution nominates the citizen Toussaint-Louverture, Chief General of the army of Saint-Domingue, and, in consideration for important services rendered to the colony, in the most critical circumstances of the revolution, and upon the wishes of the grateful inhabitants, he is entrusted the direction thereof for the remainder of his glorious life.
- Article 28, Haitian Constitution of 1801 (Translated)
Saturday, August 2, 2159
“You seem upset,” Nanami Ruiko said. She had proctored Martha’s clearance exam, god knows how long ago, and now she was here, sitting in the seat next to Martha on the half-empty shinkansen to Hokkaido and being incredibly annoying in the typical telepath way.
Martha rolled her eyes. She was about to have an entire work day or more of MHD telepaths telling her what she was thinking, she hardly needed it on the train ride as well. “You’re right, I am upset. Don’t you already know why?”
“MHD guidance for passive telepaths and empaths is that it’s polite to ask, even about things you already know,” Nanami told her. “So…why are you upset?”
“It’s embarrassing, and I really don’t want to say it out loud,” Martha groaned, putting her head in her hands.
Then speak from the heart, Nanami thought, accompanied by a grandiose swell of mental music, and I will hear your troubles.
“Please tell me that is not how you opened your therapy sessions when you were MHD.”
It’s how I open my therapy sessions when they’re conducted on public trains, Nanami pointed out, fairly. And besides, we magical girls are a theatrical bunch. A little pomp and circumstance helps more often than you’d might think.
Martha huffed, staring out at the countryside as it passed in blurs of green and sky blue. She took a moment to check an email or two on her contacts (three from Kyouko which she passed over for now, one from Kana with a fifteen bullet point list of instructions for what she’d be doing in Asahikawa); Nanami politely pretended to think she was sorting through her thoughts and not her messages.
Kyouko was talking about another woman last night , she said.
She has been known to two-time , Nanami said, not unkindly.
It wasn’t like that, Martha huffed. No, we were asleep, and she woke me up, pulling me in and…nuzzling, for lack of a better word. I thought she’d wanted another round, I started to try to wake her up so she’d stop, and then she started saying the name Sayaka. Talking about how much she loved her.
And then what happened? Nanami asked, the curious, teasing notes gone from her inner voice.
I stormed out. Kyouko came after me, telling me that it was nothing, that it was a long time ago. Martha sighed, rubbing her forehead. It feels silly in retrospect. I always knew I wasn’t her first, and I’m certainly not her best. Of course she would have feelings for other people, with how long she’s been alive. But even so…
You’re allowed to want your partner to be faithful to you, Nanami told her. To love you more than they love other people. There’s nothing wrong or invalid about your feelings.
But? Martha asked.
… there’s no “but”. I’m a Soul Guard interrogation specialist, not your mother. I’ve seen couples break up over less. I’ve seen couples stay together through more. What do you want to do?
Martha checked a few more messages, and then: Right this moment? I want her to sweat a little bit while I think about it.
--
“The time has come to acknowledge what we all know to be true,” Sayaka recited, arms outstretched magnanimously as the teleprompter feed scrolled automatically down her contacts. “The Coalition exists to naively maintain a status quo that has long since crumbled, to keep us living forever in the past. We believe in the power of magical people and magical lives; we believe the best days of the MSY are still to come. We see before us the start of a new magical century, where our people live in peace, in wealth, and in comfort, forever safe from a world that no longer deserves our sacrifice.”
In the third row of Mahoutai’s press room, Sayaka’s longtime speechwriter Kazahana cut in, raising her hand. “‘Forever safe in the world our sacrifices have built’ is what I have. When did that get changed?”
“I did it,” Elise acknowledged, in the far right side of the fourth row. “You can’t start the ‘graph by firing away at the Coalition and end it on an upswing like that.”
“It’s a little grim, isn’t it?” Sayaka asked, tilting her head. “I mean, we’re here trying to tell these people here - and everywhere, really - why they should switch to voting for us. The old line does that, what does the new line do?”
“We don’t like the world right now. We don’t want other people to like it either, or they’ll vote for the Coalition,” Elise explained. “You have to lead with the narrative of decline, then you can offer an alternative.”
“Scroll back a few lines and take it again from the end of the B section,” Kazahana ordered. With a flick of her finger, both her draft and the draft in Sayaka’s right eye scrolled upwards around half a paragraph.”
“The Coalition exists to maintain a status quo that has long since crumbled, to keep us forever living in the past.” Sayaka said, her voice slowly building. “We believe in the power of magical people and magical lives. We believe the best days of the MSY are still to come ! And we see before us the start of a new magical century , where our people live in peace! In wealth! And in comfort! We shall be forever safe from a world that no longer deserves our sacrifice.”
“Right track, but a little too supervillain-y,” Kazahana said.
“Well, you wrote the speech, it does sound kinda supervillain-y,” Sayaka said.
“Actually, I wrote these few lines,” Elise pointed out.
“That actually answers a lot of my questions about the B-section,” Sayaka cracked. Even Kazahana smiled a little.
An alarm beeped on Sayaka’s contacts, and an alert slid out from the left side of her vision. She scanned it quickly. “I’ve gotta head to the train station if I’m going to make it to my daughter’s tournament on time. Can we pick this up tomorrow morning?”
The room murmured their assent, and Sayaka quickly bid them farewell, dropping off her notes from the lectern in her office and whirling around to head back towards the front of the building. Kazahana quickly fell into step, having somehow managed to track her down along the only route she could possibly take.
“What’s going on, Kazahana?”
“Hey, uh, it was a little hectic in the room there, but I’ve got something I want to tell you,” Kazahana began. She was wearing glasses today, mousy brown hair less organized like it usually was on days with no public appearances. “Mind if we take a sec?”
“Wish I could,” Sayaka sighed. “I’ve missed all of Sakura’s tournaments this year. I really, really have to make it to this one.”
“You can spare a moment, I checked,” Kazahana told her. Still, Sayaka pressed down the hall, hopping into the rear seat of her car and typing in Mitakihara Central Station as her destination.
“I’m leaving!” she finally said.
Sayaka started, turning to her. “No, really?”
“Yeah. I’d wanted to have a more serious conversation about why, but…”
“When I get back,” Sayaka assured the speechwriter. “I promise, we get through this whole thing and then-“
“You don’t get back for at least three days,” Kazahana pointed out. Sayaka sighed.
“Yeah, I know, but…I just can’t talk about it right now, okay?” The party leader looked down. “I don’t want you to go, and I think you’re needed here, but…if you’re sure, I can’t keep you.”
“Yeah,” Kazahana said mutely.
“I really do have to go,” Sayaka told her. Kazahana stepped back, and the door closed itself, the car’s engine humming to life a moment later.
--
The MHD Recuperation Facility, Asahikawa was a four-story white building, nestled amongst pine trees on a hill overlooking rice fields to the north and the city to the south. Two wings split off of the central hub, one to the west of the building for temporary cases and one to the north for long term care.
“I want it officially noted that I think this is not in the best interests of the patient,” Eri Nakamura said. She was a grey-ponytailed therapist with round glasses, which she adjusted more often than was strictly necessary as she led them down the hall. “Fu-san is in an extremely fragile state. She’s made barely any progress in rebuilding her identity!”
“If there was any other way, we wouldn’t be here,” Martha said apologetically, struggling to keep up through the labyrinthine corners. “But we have to know who did this to her. It’s important.”
“You never cared before,” the bespectacled doctor huffed.
“We never suspected foul play before,” Martha sighed. “All we were told at the central office before was that she had some kind of a mental breakdown. Honestly, working for Kana-san is tough enough that I think everyone just believed it. But we have cause to believe it now.”
“Well, if I can’t talk you out of it…” Nakamura sighed. “As I said, Fu-san is quite unstable. She may not respond to your questions immediately, or at all. If she becomes upset by your questioning, I’ll have to ask you to leave at once.”
“Of course,” Nanami agreed.
“And the other thing, which I’m sure you’re familiar with if you’ve come this far - you must not make physical contact with Fu for any reason. Not only is it extremely upsetting to her, it also runs a high risk of triggering her telepathy, and if you’re affected for any length of time, it’s likely you’ll join her as a patient here, understand?”
“Right,” Martha said, nodding.
Nanami blinked. “What?”
“Fu Zang’s magic allowed her to perfectly share memories with anyone she touched,” Martha explained. “Kana-san told me she used to have Fu-san do research and attend meetings for her, so she could be in two places at once.”
“She’s not capable of controlling her power,” Nakamura added. “So instead of giving you just the memories of her last twenty-four hours, she could overwrite you with forty years of memories.”
“And then we have two patients,” Nanami finished. In front of them, Nakamura stopped and turned around.
“This is it,” Nakamura said. Inside the frostable window on the door was a cozy, spartan room in Japanese style, six tatami with a knee-height writing desk next to the window and a futon laying loosely made in the far corner. Fu was at the desk, facing out the window and seemingly doing nothing at all. “Now, I’ll go inside and see if she’s willing to speak to you today. Wait here – I’ll fetch you if she agrees to speak with you.”
--
Even from just outside the field house’s front door, Sayaka heard the clacks of wooden shafts slamming into each other. Inside, the din was almost overwhelming, as all of the several dozen different schools’ entourages warmed up simultaneously. She had to slowly pick her way around the outside of the room, her personal bodyguard Yoshino forming a fairly obtrusive wall between her and the high schoolers. Well, less obtrusive now that Sayaka was in jeans and a t-shirt and Yoshino was looking distinctly uncomfortable in tight black leggings and a Mitakihara University sweater.
Halfway down the gym floor, a familiar head of green hair stuck out from the back of a barred mask. Sakura slowly circled the square taped out in red on the floor, across from a slightly taller girl with short cropped purple hair, their weapons long wooden poles with short strips of bamboo at the end to simulate a blade. With a fast step forwards, their weapons clashed, two sharp blows before they stepped back.
Sakura raised a hand, then lifted her helmet and came over. “Mom! I’m really glad you made it, I thought you had that big work trip and–”
“I made time,” Sayaka said, pulling Sakura in for a hug and managing not to wince at the smell of sweat soaked into armor padding. “Who’s this you’re practicing with?”
The other girl lifted her mask. Her face was angular, all sharp lines leading to high cheekbones, but she had a casual smile on her face. “I’m Sakura’s senior, Sumie Keiko. It’s an honor to meet you, Shizuki-san.” It wasn’t obvious from further away, but up close, she felt an obvious aura of magic coming from Keiko. Sayaka’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her smile with all the poise of a practiced politician.
“The pleasure is mine,” Sayaka told them. “My daughter comes home after practice every day happy and tired, so I’m sure you’re teaching her well.”
“She really is!” her daughter said happily. “Sumie-san is so fast and talented - it feels like even when I’m at my best, I can never quite land a hit on her. I feel like there’s no way she can lose, if she keeps her focus.”
“Is that so?” Sayaka asked, giving Keiko a meaningful look.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say I’m that good,” Keiko said modestly, looking away with the proper grace and humility. “I’ve just had a lot of practice, and a very good senior of my own.”
A horn sounded at the back of the room, and the clacks of sticks died down. “That’s your cue, mom,” Sakura said. “Make sure to go find a good seat, okay? I don’t want you to miss anything.”
“I will, I will,” Sayaka said with a smile, that faded slightly as she turned away. Yoshino stood impassively.
—
The interview, such as it was, had been a disaster.
It had taken fifteen minutes just for Nakamura to convince Fu to speak to them. They had sat awkwardly across from each other on the floor mats, Nakamura sitting next to Fu and repeating Martha’s questions softly to her while Nanami remained silent, monitoring Fu’s brain for even the slightest whiff of a response. An hour of questioning spent, for maybe fifteen spoken words and what Nanami told her was a vague set of telepathic images more fit for Rorshach tests than thorough analysis.
“I just don’t understand what we could have done differently,” Nanami sighed. She leaned on her elbow, looking at Martha as the intern typed away in a spare break room. “You know, it’s possible the damage is too great to recover. It was probably done by a powerful Soul Mage
“Mitakihara and Kazamino have the highest concentration of Soul Mages in the entire world, thanks to the various agencies that use them,” Martha said absently as she typed. “We can try that later, if we can’t get anything out of Fu – but it’ll take a month for us to narrow down possible suspects and check their alibis.”
“And you probably can’t check some, because a lot of people won’t remember what they were doing on a random day five years ago.”
“I just feel terrible that we can’t do anything,” Martha muttered. “And the way things are looking…this was almost certainly foul play, a targeted attack. It’s one thing to give your life for the job, but to lose even the concept of who you are, to be made into a shell of yourself…”
“Above and beyond the call for anybody,” Nanami agreed. “Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, okay?
“Yeah,” Martha assented. She glanced through the MHD’s intake report on Fu Zang, dated five years ago and frustratingly vague.
Initial Disposition
Patient encountered in her Mitakihara apartment, address given above. Heavily altered mental status, screamed unintelligibly at officers performing wellness check. When dialogue failed, officers attempted to secure and transport Patient, resulting in a brief physical struggle; officers report no serious harm.
“Officers report no serious harm,” Martha muttered to herself, paging through the rest of the file. Fu had been mostly calm in the past year or two, with her psychologists reporting small improvements, but in the first few years in the facility, she’d struggled at every opportunity. And yet…no injuries worse than a few bruises, nothing like what Nakamura had described.
“I’m back!” Nanami said. Martha glanced over at her, annoyed, and then snapped her gaze back before eye tracking changed her tabs against her will. “You almost done with your paperwork, there? If there’s nothing else for us to do here, I’d rather spend the night in my own bed.”
“I need to talk to Fu again,” Martha said abruptly. She quickly flicked over to the MHD’s internal network, searching for Fu’s schedule and finding…more or less nothing she could use for private time, except…outdoor time at 1430. That would have to do.
Nanami shrugged. “Sure, won’t fault you for chasing down every lead, but I was in the room too. I’m genuinely not sure how much there is to find.”
“No, I’m pretty sure there’s something there, she just can’t express it to us,” Martha told her. “There’s something that doesn’t add up in the reports, I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Well, I’m around if you need me,” Nanami offered.
“Thanks, but…I think I just need another hour or so to puzzle through it. Can you give me a bit of time to myself?”
“You’re the boss,” Nanami agreed. “I’ll go take a walk on the grounds. Call me if you need me?”
Martha assented, then turned back to her work. Fu was an enigma, able to understand what they were saying but not respond, all of her personality and memories erased but not any of her basic skills; even her hair was still brushed in exactly the same way it was in her employee picture. What kind of magic could do that?
Magic can do just about anything , she reminded herself.
Then something clicked, and she immediately flicked to a new document and started writing out an email. What she was planning probably wasn’t going to work, but if it did…someone had to know what she tried, and why.
--
The gymnasium hall was thinned out a little, now, as some of the defeated teams and their families had left. Six large, taped squares filled the room, and in each one a pair of competitors from different teams crossed spears. Sakura was one of the last from her team to fight, with Keiko to go in next.
There was a jarring lack of fluidity to the matches, at odds with all of the magical combat Sayaka had participated in. Sakura and her opponent would stand statue still for seconds, naginata held parallel to the floor at waist level just centimeters apart, until one of them would strike with a yell, their blade aimed for the head, the torso, or the armored ankles just above worryingly bare feet on the polished hardwood floors. Sometimes a blow was batted aside, and they returned to the start; sometimes it ended in a clinch, a blade held in between the other spear’s shaft and the body armor in a tense pause before its wielder stepped back, withdrawing, a delicate dance with steps unknown to all but the participants.
Sakura seemed to be winning, to Sayaka’s eye, but she was paying a price in heavy blows to her armored upper arms and knees. Still, she managed to catch her opponent by surprise, stepping forward as her opponent broke a stalemate and swinging in with a swift circular blow to the ankle.
Sayaka cheered, pumping a fist in the air. Sakura barely managed to contain herself long enough to politely bow and strip off her helmet and wrist guards before she ran up into the stands.
“Did you see that, Mom?” Sakura asked.
“I did, I did,” Sayaka said. “That was great, at the end, I didn’t think she was expecting you to attack so quickly.”
“I noticed she was relaxing when she stepped back,” Sakura said earnestly. “And she was always looking up at my eyes, so she couldn’t see my low attack as well.” Sayaka nodded, pulling Sakura in for a half hug on the bleachers. “Look, Keiko is going out now.”
The purple haired girl made her way out to the same ring, facing against a figure whose features were more or less completely hidden. They bowed ritually and stepped into their starting positions.
It only took a few seconds of fighting to confirm what Sayaka already knew. Keiko was unnaturally fast, magically fast . Some of her dodges were executed well ahead of time, some at the last second so the bamboo blade brushed barely by her or glanced off for an unscorable blow, but all of them were executed with the same unnerving speed. As the round ticked on, and the other girl’s form began to slip slightly, the naginata dipping lower in her ready position and her footwork becoming sloppy, Keiko’s remained immaculate, magic fueling her stamina.
Keiko’s opponent lost her patience, striking forth with two alternating swings at Keiko’s ankles. Sakura’s senpai danced back with perfect footwork, her spear rising high in the air, and landed the winning point with one blow.
“That’s my senpai!” Sakura shouted.
Sayaka didn’t cheer along with her, crossing her arms and looking down at Keiko instead. Keiko finished her bow, then walked back to her team, who surrounded her, clapping her on the back and head. As if the senior could feel Sayaka’s gaze, she looked up at Sayaka from the middle of the crowd.
We need to talk, Sayaka said.
The bathroom, Keiko mouthed back.
Sayaka pulled her daughter into a hug, rubbing her upper back in circles. “You guys did great today! What’s there, one more match?”
“Yeah, against that team from Osaka,” Sakura told her. “They’re really strong, but they don’t have anybody as good as Keiko.”
“Mind if I slip out real quick? Need to use the bathroom.” Sayaka asked. Sakura nodded, and on her way down from the stands, Sayaka saw Keiko making more or less the same excuse. Still, she didn’t know her way around the building, so Keiko was already settled in, washing her face when Sayaka arrived.
“You’re cheating,” Sayaka said casually, leaning against the wall of the bathroom. Keiko ignored her, drying her face with a paper towel.
“Good to see you too,” Keiko said.
“You’re a magical girl, young lady.” Sayaka said, flashing her silver ring. “You know competing in sports with mundanes is forbidden.”
“I know, but-”
“It’s not just because you risk exposing us,” Sayaka continued. “It’s dangerous, especially in a sport like this. You could have killed that girl.”
“But I didn’t. You watched that match. Did it ever look like I wasn’t in control?” Sayaka had to admit that on that point, at least, Keiko was right. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, I don’t want to spill your precious secrets. I just want to go to school and play sports like a normal girl my age.”
“You’re not normal ,” Sayaka told her. “You’re a magical girl. You have responsibilities-”
“What does this have to do with my ‘responsibilities’? I’ve hunted three times this week, isn’t that enough?”
It was the thinking of a reckless, selfish child. Someone more concerned with her own happiness than the harm she could do other people.
“Believe it or not, keeping us secret keeps us safe. Maybe you’re not concerned for yourself, but it’s the responsibility of all of us to help keep our kind a secret.”
“Your own daughter doesn’t know I’m a magical girl, so I think I’m keeping secrets just fine,” Keiko shot back. “And what’s up with that, by the way? Aren’t you like, the mother of the MSY’s first family?”
“Not everyone has the potential,” Sayaka said coolly. “And either way, Sakura is my daughter and I love her as much as-”
“You love her so much that this is the first time you’ve been to one of her meets in two years? You love her so much that you’re lecturing me in a bathroom instead of cheering her on?” Keiko sneered. “You seem like you’re in a motherly mood - how about you go parent your actual daughter? Or is she not important to you until she’s one of–”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” Sayaka warned.
“Or what? You’re gonna attack me in a bathroom? That’ll do great for that secrecy you’re talking about,” Keiko snapped. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
I’ll report you, Sayaka warned.
Whatever, Keiko snapped back, probably halfway back to the gym by now. Let me know if you ever go on a hunt without a dozen bodyguards around. Guess I’ll see you again the next time you decide you care about your daughter.
Sayaka sighed, leaning against the wall of the bathroom. Fucking teenagers…
-
Outdoor time was a somber affair, even for the MHD. Most of the patients were let out into the building’s courtyard in small groups, watched from a distance by MHD supervisors and orderlies but otherwise left to their own devices.
Fu Zang walked the courtyard on her own, with only Nakamura and an orderly to watch. It would have been easy enough to hop down from the rooftop and join Fu, but that would startle her, keep her from doing what Martha needed her to do. For that, she needed a real, private conversation, which needed permission from Nakamura, and that was substantially harder to get. Fifteen minutes into Zang’s hour of relaxation, she got it.
“Zang!” Martha called out.
She started, jerking around halfway to look at Martha, who stood about two meters of gray cobblestone away, hands raised. Slowly, Martha began to step closer, hands now clasped in front of her.
“I just wanted to thank you for letting me meet you earlier,” Martha began. Zang tilted her head quizzically. “Would you like to sit?” She gestured to a nearby wrought iron bench, wide enough for the both of them with a bit of space in between, and the two of them sat down.
“There’s a few things I want to tell you, things I know about who you used to be, and some things I think you used to be.” Martha began, once they were situated. Zang nodded, slowly. “I know you were an assistant to someone important, Kuroi Kana. You probably don’t remember her, now, but she remembers you, because you were unforgettable. From what she tells me, the two of you were an unstoppable team.”
Zang smiled slightly.
“I know you were a person who believed in duty,” Martha continued. “You came to MSY headquarters when Kana-san found you in a file, agreed to spend so many of your hours as her shadow, letting her be in two places at once. Most people would never agree to that kind of arrangement, but you did, because you were called to serve.”
“I know you were a person who could keep secrets, because Kana trusted you, and because you haven’t told me a thing yet,” Martha told Zang wryly. “I know you were brilliant, because Kana-san compares me to you at least once a week. I know that you were self controlled, almost to a fault. Even in your darkest moments, you never used your magic to harm, not even to the people trying to hurt you.”
Zang’s smile vanished, slowly, as Martha’s words sank in.
“There was a plot, against Kana-san and the people she works for,” Martha said slowly. Zang began to shudder, arms wrapped tight around herself. “You discovered it before anyone else. You were going to report it, weren’t you? But they got to you first, attacked you. They couldn’t kill you or make you disappear, that would leave a trail, so they tried to subvert you, turn you from an opponent into an ally. And that didn’t work either, because you were too focused and too loyal to twist. So instead…they tried to destroy you, instead, and all this time, you haven’t been able to tell anyone.”
Slowly, Zang nodded, gloved hands gripping her skirt so tightly Martha was worried it might tear. Martha sat down next to her, keeping her hands folded in plain view in her lap.
“I know we’re five years too late, and I know that we can’t fix what happened to you. But I think, if you can break through the wall and remember everything-“
“I…can’t,” Zang said, slowly and unevenly, voice raw from disuse.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Martha asked. Zang just blinked. “You’ve suffered so much for the MSY, more than any one person should. I know that. But I need you to tap into that brilliance, that sense of duty, one more time.”
“...can’t…gone…alone…”
“If you can’t say the words, then show me ,” Martha told her. Slowly, Martha glanced over, and saw Nakamura occupied with something else; she slid off her gloves and stuffed them in her pocket. “You never forgot how to walk, or make your bed, or what it means when someone offers you a seat. I think there’s plenty more down there, just locked away, and I think your magic knows how to unlock it, and just needs a person willing to see it.”
“…You’ll…”
“You did your duty. Let me do mine,” Martha said. She reached out across the gap between them, touched two fingers to Zang’s forearm where the sleeve and glove left a gap. “Whenever you’re---"
She was in a Kazamino nightclub, lights glaring and sounds blaring–
–a hand squeezing her wrist tight, she turned to look, and then she was gone, somewhere else entirely–
–heavy chains holding her down on a cot, a green-haired woman with a scar across her cheek meeting her eyes, asking her if she’s ready to join them yet–
–a thousand visions suffocating her brain, pain and suffering and terror forced upon her-but-not-her, she screams until her voice gives out, until she can’t even remember why she’s screaming–
-and rough hands ripped them apart from each other, one-but-not-one becoming two again. They panted for breath, scarcely registering the pain of scraped hands on the pavement. Somewhere, far away, a voice was sending for someone named Nanami, that only one of them remembered meeting.
Slowly, her breathing calmed, and Martha (yes, that was her name, she remembered now), looked up at Nanami.
“Kana-san did this every day?”
“Not two hours ago you were telling me how unbelievably stupid an idea this was!” Nanami snapped. “Are you insane?”
“We’ve been treating her like a dangerous weapon, a lethal threat.” Martha muttered. Nanami’s gaze softened slightly. “It was all wrong from the start - she’s been here five years with no incidents, no one inadvertently making contact with her? She had to still be in control, and just unable to express herself normally.”
“That’s a hell of a hunch to bet your entire existence as a person on,” Nanami grumbled. Still, she hooked her hands under Martha’s armpits, hoisting Martha to her feet. Across from them, she could see Nakamura kneeling in front of Zang, asking her whispered questions. “Now come on. We’ve gotta get you somewhere to write all that down as quickly as possible before the memories fade.”
–
Unlike the shinkansen, the plane’s first class seats were cozy enough for Sayaka to get some work done. First class wasn’t roomy, wasn’t even really quiet, but it was private, at least, with individual seats separated by small sliding dividers. Even with contacts, she hadn’t quite gotten over someone peeping over her shoulder on an adolescent love letter.
Time to talk now? Kazahana asked. She had been working on a quick report of the incident at the naginata meet. Nothing that would have gotten Keiko in serious trouble, nothing that would have resulted in anything worse than a slap on the wrist. Things were taking longer to come together than usual, and not just because she hadn’t filled out one of these forms in years.
Yeah. Just writing up a report on a dumb teenager , Sayaka wrote back.
…Seriously?
…Not really, Sayaka admitted, pushing the form aside and leaning back in her seat. Feels like I’m breaking someone’s kneecaps ‘cause they were mean to me.
Sounds like you’re already over it, then.
Not really, Sayaka said again. In between calling me a failure of a mother, she told me this sob story about having to make a wish to save her brother. I feel like she thinks we ruined her life.
What do you mean?
She said she just wants to have a normal school life , Sayaka said. She wants to play sports and study for her exams, and instead she spends all her time hunting.
We can take care of the entry exams, you know. They did for me. Kazahana said wryly.
Just the entry fee, right? Sayaka asked. Kazahana didn’t respond for long enough that Sayaka had to repeat: Just the entry fee, right?
A lady doesn’t cheat and tell, Kazahana deflected, and now Sayaka was sure she was joking.
We always assume that magic is only a good thing, Sayaka mused. That the MSY automatically makes life better for all magical girls. But is that really true?
Mahoutai specifically doesn't assume that second part, Kazahana pointed out. At least, not if you listen to Elise.
But the way Elise thinks about is exactly opposite - the assumption that the mundane parts of Keiko’s life are what’s dragging her down. Those are the parts she’d rather have - she’d be happy never to hunt again, if we’d let her.
Seems like she has some reasonable points, Kazahana agreed. If only you could do something about it.
I miss when you worked for me already, Sayaka grumbled. She glanced at Kazahana’s profile picture - it was actually of Sayaka herself, in her 2133 reelection campaign, her first under the nascent Mahoutai banner. She was pumping a fist as she delivered Kazahana’s first ever line, as a nervous, teenaged Kazahana looked on from the left side of the frame.
“We’ll build a new world,” she murmured, “where those who dare to wish for a better future are never left behind.”
Kazahana, Sayaka asked. What made you stop wanting to write for me?
I liked writing for you when you were up and coming , Kazahana told her. You had ideas that inspired me - using all our resources and abilities to build something new, something special. Maybe our policies were the same as they are now, but we had positive goals to work towards. Nowadays it feels like Elise has us punching down, and I hear from other people what Zhi has them looking into and I don’t like it.
I don’t like Elise either , Sayaka confided. But her political instincts are second to none. She practically built the power bloc that has us competitive in the first place.
You could have built that power bloc yourself. It would have been harder, taken longer, but you’re charismatic when you’re saying things you really believe in. Recruiting Elise got you here faster, but the cost is standing behind a podium talking about how the world is ending, how ordinary people like your daughter are dragging down magical girls with them.
We have to win in order to make that change, Sayaka argued.
Nothing would have stopped me from getting you here, Kazahana stated. But now I have trouble looking myself in the mirror in the mornings. I want to write about hope and joy and love again, so when Studio Mermaid made me the offer, I took it.
Alright, then… Sayaka mused. Well, if I still have you… want to help me rewrite the speech?
You give the speech in, like, ten hours, Kazahana reminded her. You’ve never been any good at improvising.
We’re not gonna improvise. You edit it, then I put it up in my contacts and we go. No need for the teleprompter.
And Elise?
Sayaka tilted her head. What’s she gonna do, fire you?
Depends on what we’re changing, Kazahana said, and Sayaka could almost see the grin on the woman’s face. What’ll it be, boss?
Well…I was thinking we could talk about hope and love.