Chapter Text
Back inside the main arena of the target range, Gamma detected the door behind it sliding open.
"This is your newest counterpart, Unit One Zero Three Delta." Its Master's voice, the Cyber Regina announced. A freshly manufactured machine stepped into the room.
-| SYSTEM IDENTIFICATION - NEW SLAVE DESIGNATION |-
-| ENHANCED BIOMECHANICAL LIFEFORM UNIT ONE ZERO THREE |-
-| UNIT CODENAME |-
-|Δ |-
"Delta," Gamma acknowledged the new unit's presence by verbalizing its codename.
"Beeeeeeeeep! Whirrrrrrrrrrr! Bzzzzzzzt!" Its younger model did not do the same, instead squawking out glitched sounds.
"Delta has just completed its target shooting courses," The voice told Gamma. "Now it is time to test its systems' proverbial mettle by pitting it against you in an active combat scenario. Just as you had your component designs evaluated in your match against Beta." By its appearance Gamma determined that Delta featured multiple design alterations from Gamma's template. A more detailed scan confirmed it. It was armed with two rapid-fire guns to Gamma's one, the chassis was several millimeters thicker and both its upper appendage connective part plus its torso had rotational a range of motion that made its overall flexibility superior when compared to Gamma's specifications.
"Delta features several design tweaks that, should they prove to provide it with the tactical edge in your spar, shall be incorporated into you upon a future hardware update," The Cyber Regina confirmed. "You however, have your prior battlefield experience from which to contrast and counter.
-| CYBER METANEXUS LINK DISABLED |-
"I would like this to be a good, clean match that results in an interesting new set of data." The Cyber Regina said aloud through a booming loudspeaker. "Ready? Engage!"
-| TARGET UNIT 103 'Δ ' |-
-| RANGE: 35.000 METERS |-
-| VELOCITY: 0.000 METERS PER SECOND |-
Gamma took off sprinting. Not towards Delta, but instead in a wide-ranging circle around its curiously stationary target. It first needed to gauge the maximum range of Delta's targeting software. But contrary to its expectation, Delta eschewed any precise targeting altogether, extending its arms straight outward, then began spinning its upper section around and blanketed the arena with rapid gunfire. The field lacking any options for cover, Gamma could do little but try to stay a step ahead of the projectile blasts.
-| DAMAGE DETECTED |-
-| EIGHT PROJECTILE PENETRATION IMPACTS |-
-| LOCATION: UPPER CHASSIS |-
-| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: NEGLIGIBLE |-
Gamma calculated it would take another peppering of this in approximately two point six one four nine seconds.
-| DAMAGE DETECTED |-
-| ELEVEN PROJECTILE PENETRATION IMPACTS |-
-| LOCATION: UPPER CHASSIS, MIDDLE CHASSIS |-
-| DAMAGE COMPOUNDING WITH PREVIOUS HITS |-
-| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: MINOR |-
-| RISK OF SIGNIFICANT INJURY INCREASING |-
The most logical and readily deployable counterattack was to stop in its tracks, lock on and return fire, gambling that Gamma's marginally more piercing ammunition would be able to chip away at Delta's armor faster than each incoming wave would degrade Gamma's. A grueling battle of attrition, one which Gamma computed to give it no better than a forty-seven point one two six eight one percent chance of victory. Not satisfied with those unfavorable odds, Gamma scanned for a way to increase its calculable chances to a percentage total higher than fifty.
-| DAMAGE DETECTED |-
-| NINE PROJECTILE PENETRATION IMPACTS |-
-| LOCATION: UPPER CHASSIS, MIDDLE CHASSIS, UPPER THIGH ARMOR |-
-| HAIRLINE FRACTURE IN UPPER CHASSIS |-
-| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: MODERATE |-
-| UNIT AT RISK OF CASCADING FAILURES FROM IMPACT DAMAGE |-
The spray pattern of the damage was getting wider with every turn. That data did not just spotlight Delta's non-utilization of its targeting software, it was also evidence suggestive that there was some sort of potential underlying mechanical fault on display. For even sans-targeting, Delta was spinning at a predictable rate, striking Gamma with a consistent rhythm and hitting Gamma regardless of its own attempts to stay ahead of the bursts. All other factors considered, this should have meant a more consistent, more even hit ratio across Gamma's body. But with its chance of prevailing now at thirty nine point eight nine one five percent and declining by the second, Gamma first needed a way to buttress its armor before it could investigate and exploit this anomaly. What Gamma knew it needed most was something it could use to take the mounting hits, a shield of some sort.
The floor below them was sectionalized with metallic paneling, likely of a thickness sufficient to buy a few seconds. Ripping one off and using it seemed to be its singular viable option. The hitch was in stopping and obtaining a chunk before its opponents' attacks could wear it down.
-| NEW TARGET ACQUIRED |-
-| RANGE: 12.358 METERS |-
-| UNIT 'Γ' VELOCITY: 4.039 METERS PER SECOND |-
Gamma fired a running barrage at the minuscule gap between two panels approximately two seconds ahead of it. The impacts struck the panel, slightly dislodging it, and offering an exposure point with which Gamma could tear it off and prop it up. Gamma leaned all the way ahead, fell with a resounding thud and rolled forward. Then it stuck its digits into the gap, pulled upwards with all its force, corrected its roll, got back to its feet, turned and held its new makeshift tool facing out. The next showering of projectiles pounded loud and hard against Gamma's covering, but managed to remain intact. A spare second's examination of the spray pattern on the makeshift shield confirmed Gamma's postulation that there was a slight wobble to Delta's bursts as it fired.
-| DAMAGE DETECTED |-
-| ONE PROJECTILE IMPACT * NO PENETRATION * |-
-| LOCATION: CRANIAL ARMOR |-
-| DAMAGE ASSESSMENT: NEGLIGIBLE |-
And its wobble was getting more pronounced with each and every turn. And every turn was happening faster and faster, despite Gamma not advancing any closer than thirty meters. If whatever mechanism was responsible for controlling Delta's spin operated in any way similar to how Gamma kept its own orientation in balance, then this preliminary data would appear to support Gamma's theory that Delta's component was fast-approaching its upper tolerance threshold. And if this conclusion were accurate, then the key to turning this spar in Gamma's favor might lie in maneuvering in such a way as to make Delta overexert itself.
Gamma closed the gap down to twenty five meters. A rippling wave of projectiles its protective shield piece at a rate of every one point eight two seven seconds. After some laps, it closed in to twenty meters, then fifteen, then ten. Now Gamma was so close, its shield was starting to get punctured.
-| DAMAGE DETECTED |-
-| THREE PROJECTILE PENETRATION IMPACTS |-
Gamma turned off its damage warning sensors. At eight meters, rounds were striking at a rate of every zero point three nine two six seconds, and at increments quicker than Gamma's computations. It indicated that Delta knew Gamma was closing in and expending ammo quicker and quicker in response.
Then Gamma's auditory sensors alerted it to a loud and echoing thud traced to Delta's location. Gamma lowered its protective piece of flooring, and watched its toppled over younger sibling flail helplessly on the floor. Gamma's prediction turned out to been accurate and borne fruit. Gamma stopped circling, and locked on its weapons.
-| TARGET UNIT 103 'Δ ' |-
-| RANGE: 7.638 METERS |-
-| VELOCITY: 0.000 METERS PER SECOND |-
Gamma fired two shots trained at Delta's spinning appendages, followed by a third aimed at its damaged torso. Delta was summarily disabled. Gamma prevailed. So much noise and energy, for the battle's conclusion to be an anticlimax.
"Your persistence and resourcefulness amazes me yet again, Gamma," The voice of its Master lauded over the loudspeaker.
-| CYBER METANEXUS LINK ENABLED AND CONNECTED |-
"Way to go!" It spoke to Gamma directly. "In one fell swoop you've demonstrated how one organ that is the culmination of millions of years of Darwinian evolution is still capable of outclassing even the most well-programmed supercomputer." Several CBX units marched into the room and picked up the main chassis of Delta and its assorted pieces. "Because of Delta's brain injuries and subsequent atrophication, I had to reconstruct and code a customized replacement for its cerebellum. But all the autonomous subroutines I could envision paled in comparison to your first hand knowledge gained against me and Beta. By observing that minor defect in its gyroscopic mechanisms you found a way to persevere through a situation that statistically should not have ended favorably for you." Another CBX unit took hold of Gamma. "That said, still you have taken your share of licks." It jammed a long, metallic syringe into Gamma's back. "For now, this injection of nanomachines should patch and repair the damage to your armor and chassis." An automated alarm started blaring throughout the room. Gamma's sensory systems had also picked up something amiss in the arena amongst the aftermath of their spar.
-| NOXIOUS GAS ALERT |-
-| PARTICLE LEVELS NOW AT 69 PARTS PER MILLION AND RISING |-
-| CHEMICAL ANALYSIS: SUBSTANCE DOES NOT MATCH ANY KNOWN IN DATABASE |-
"No cause for concern," The alarm ceased with the Cyber Regina's announcement. "Although you would not be, since I purged that from you as an irrelevance. But it would seem that in my haste to more widely broaden the scope of our ambitious operation, I have apparently distressed our dear host." CBX Units Two Thirty One through Two Forty paced inside and saluted Gamma. "Gamma, your next task is to take your squad and head to this exact location. Your mission is to neutralize any and all hostiles that may emerge by whatever means necessary." A map appeared in Gamma's field of view. "And I shall assume control of Beta and subdue the source of this disturbance myself."
"Query," Gamma uttered. It did not know why it thought it prudent to ask for more information verbally, as the relevant details were all already in the process of being downloaded into its memory core. Its cadence however was still a few tones different from the rest, perhaps its learning algorithm was taking this as a chance to fine-tune it? "What is the nature of this discharge of hazardous effluvium?" Regardless of reason for speaking up, Gamma was not going to let that indeterminate analysis be filed away without explanation.
"It is a gaseous material that is only dangerous to beings equipped with primitive olfactory systems, not us." The Cyber Regina answered. "Once Unit One Zero Three is repaired, I will dispatch it to retrieve the organic being that is slated to become Unit One Zero Four. So it is in the interest of the next in line that this leakage be dealt with swiftly and incurring minimal disruption to our operative goals." The other CBX units were already on the advance. "You have your instructions and you have your support squad, Gamma. Now complete your mission."
"Yes, Master." Gamma trod over to its position at the head of the pack. "I will comply!"
"As a magical girl uses up her magic," Yachiyo spoke to her ward in an as even-keeled, calm and clinical tone as she could manage. "The color in her Soul Gem is subsumed by an advancing concentration of corrupted blackness. No, wait," She paused and reconsidered her phrasing. Maybe those words were much too complex for the girl she was explaining it to. "More like, the shine in her Soul Gem gets cloudier, and darker and grimier, and if it isn't purified by either a Grief Seed or our Soul Support Stones," She took a deep breath. Here was the hard part. Should she keep with the emotional detachment for this next bit, or would the young lady react better if Yachiyo invoked her own messy feelings on the matter? "It turns all the way black," She swallowed. She stuck with sounding even-keeled. Projecting strength can bring out innate strength of others. "And then a Grief Seed, and with it, a new witch hatches from our souls."
But why? Yachiyo asked that very question, Tsuruno asked it, and this girl was sure to demand a better explanation, too. "Kyubey set this system up so that magical girls could serve as the lowest level of some cosmic pyramid scheme of energy production." No, that wouldn't do. "Kyubey set this system up, because the hate, violence, discord and strife among our kind he harnesses and uses as energy for his kind." Probably not much more accurate, but way better at conveying the general idea to an adolescent mind. "That's why it's important that magical girls come together and get along. For only through peace and cooperation can we grant those unfortunate remaining witches a merciful end and eradicate the last vestige of Kyubey's cruelty." In all a little over one hundred words. Not much to say, not trying to overcomplicate anything, yet on the whole still somehow one of the most difficult things Yachiyo has ever had to speak.
"Oh," Young Yuma Chitose nodded in sweet politeness. She may have been trying, but she wasn't the most ideal stand-in for Felicia. For one thing, she was not a magical girl, and thus had no skin in the game. "So is a witch like a magical girl turned evil or what?" But she sure was gonna try and ask the things Felicia may.
"It's more like the magical girl as she originally was dies, but her negative thoughts and feelings fester on as these cursed monsters who feed and grow off the negative thoughts and feelings of the people who get sucked into their labyrinths." Yachiyo phrased her answer in such a way that absolved the magical girl of some of her guilt. "Scaled to a grander level, our hope ending in despair is how the world keeps its karmic balance."
"Ohhhh." Yuma cooed. "So what does Kyubey look like?" She was also gonna indulge her own innate curiosity and not just serve as Felicia's substitute.
"He resembles an albino ferret with a long floppy set of rabbit ears coming out his cat-like ears." Yachiyo understood that. Humoring her the least she could do for someone so willing to listen and eager to play the role.
"Oh." She nodded a third time. "What's 'albino' mean?"
"It means his fur is all white and he has a distinctively red set of eyes."
"Oh." Yuma by this point was a nodding bobble-head doll. "Why's Kyubey need our energy?" At least that one was more in line with something Felicia might ask.
"Modern scientists theorize the Universe is one day doomed to run out of usable energy," Yachiyo prefaced. "Kyubey claimed he could stave that day off by turning our emotions into a unique, harvestable resource."
"Oh." Yuma stopped nodding and turned her head to an angle on one side. "But wouldn't helping the Universe be good too?" But her odd bobbling resumed as a side-to-side one once she observed Yachiyo's visceral reaction to that.
"Saving the Universe isn't what's at issue here," Yachiyo clarified. "What's at issue is that Kyubey didn't tell us what we were really agreeing to do before granting our wishes. Nor did he ever see any value in our lives as individuals. He only saw our woes as a means to an end."
"Oh." Her head finally stopped all movement. "Where's Kyubey now?" Felicia would likely want to know, too. "What wish do you think I should make to him?" But that one came right out of deep left field.
"Nope, you are not making a wish of any kind, ever." Yachiyo hid her disgust with Yuma's query better than a minute ago. At some level she could understand Yuma's fascination. Yuma was getting close to Yachiyo's age when she contracted, and in Yachiyo's façade of maturity and poise Yuma had probably found an inspiration. "He's been exiled from Earth. Means he's been sent away. For good and forever."
"Oh." Yuma sounded oddly disheartened. "Who sent him away?" For better or worse, she was still asking something Felicia could.
"The girls in Mitakihara did when they developed the Soul Support Stones," Yachiyo disclosed. "At least that's what they say and what we're believing in good faith."
"Oh." She blinked rapidly. "But what if he comes back?" The doorbell rang.
"Kyubey was a deceptive creature, but he was an animal of his word, and he allegedly promised not to return." Yachiyo stood up and headed for the front door. And besides, Yachiyo thought to herself. That fortune teller Oriko said it wasn't Kyubey we should be worried about, but his sponsors.
"We're back!" Felicia didn't wait for anyone to respond to the doorbell and barged right inside with three plastic bags in one hand. Yachiyo had sent Felicia to retrieve yesterday's groceries, and help Tsuruno bring them over.
Yachiyo spotted Tsuruno in the doorway with even more bags in hand. Indeed, they were the lion's share of the food, and the half dozen bags were so stuffed they had stretched to near their breaking point. "Let me take those," Yachiyo offered. The last thing she needed was for her food to be trucked so far only to be spilled and scattered about her nice floor so close to the goal line. "Thanks." As she relieved Tsuruno she noted there were in fact nine bags. Tsuruno had put bags inside of other bags so that she could carry even more. It was a wonder the bread and produce wasn't all smashed. And the look on Tsuruno's face didn't seem to show any concern for Yachiyo's items. Rather, she seemed even more chipper and cheerful than normal. "I take it by that smile you managed to rack up those points just under the deadline?"
"Oooooaauuuuuueeehhh?" Tsuruno's expression fell and crashed all the way back down to earth. "Uhhhhh… Well, actually…" She took out the receipt in a barely-contained grimace and handed it to Yachiyo.
Yachiyo skipped right to reading the point totals on the bottom. "You didn't get any points?"
"B- But I still kept under budget using coupons, bulk discounts and scavenging stuff from the damaged goods section," Tsuruno defended her performance. "I even made up some of the differences by chipping in my cash!" She believed it would soften the blow if Yachiyo were told of the silver lining and heard of Tsuruno's willingness to chip in on the final tally.
"The sales and the budget weren't the point!" Yachiyo argued. "The point was in accumulating the points!" But it didn't fly. In Yachiyo's eyes Tsuruno failed her mission.
"What's that thing?" Yuma pointed at a small, round capsule toy attached to the zipper on Felicia's bookbag.
"It's one of the Decagon Balls," Felicia replied. "Eh? Haven't ya' ever heard of 'Decagon Ball'?"
"No," Yuma fibbed. For she had. "What's that?" But she knew from a lot of past experience that whenever grown-ups bicker, it's best that the children quietly entertain themselves elsewhere.
"If you were running short on time, then what you should've done was gone to the checkout lane with the items you already had, bought them, brought them here and told me what you didn't have the time to purchase," Yachiyo lectured her subject. "Then I could go back there with my credit card later, buy the rest, and tally some extra spender points on my credit."
"I'm sorry," Tsuruno issued a penitent apology. "I'll do better next time."
"Usually you're pretty on-the-ball when it comes to handling the straightforward stuff, but I swear," Yachiyo critiqued. "Whenever you're under the gun and you try to improvise, you tend to most often resort to the solution that you think pleases all that winds up satisfying nobody."
"But that wasn't what happened at all!" Tsuruno excused. "I met someone roaming the aisles who told me they thought I was cute enough to become a model." Yachiyo responded to her truth with an incredulous glance which Tsuruno found to be rather patronizing. "Like you! It's true!" She insisted. "She gave me her card with her name and address and everything!"
"Oh, yeah?" Yachiyo folded her arms. "If that's true, then show it to me."
"Okay so, there's this alien whose name is Kugo," Felicia started. "And when he was little he was sent to Earth by the emperor of his homeworld to conquer us," She paused, trying to think of how to distill countless years worth of backstory down to something that might be enticing to the uninitiated. "But his spaceship crashed, and so he lost his memory, but lucky he got found by this nice old dude who became his dad." Yuma made sure the guest room door was closed so they wouldn't hear the arguing. "And he grows up to be this real strong, cool hero who gives the people hope and protects the world from all sorts of nasty evil threats!"
"Yeah?" Yuma tried her best to sound interested. "So what's that round thingy do?"
"'Gray Alien'?" Yachiyo had a tough time reading the signature scribbled in English on the torn-off piece of cardboard. English was a torturous enough language for her to read already. It didn't need to be made more so by some style of penmanship that was so curvy, crammed together, and needlessly flamboyant. And that an alleged business card would be crafted in such an ad hoc way lent little credibility to Tsuruno's story. "Never heard of any photo studio with a name like that." And true to her suspicion, the cardboard card had been torn right off the back of Yuma's favorite cereal.
"It's not a studio name, it's their name-name!" Tsuruno insisted. "It took me a while to figure it out, but then I realized they've got a western name but they sign it in the Japanese style of putting the family's name first!" She snatched the card away and put her index finger to it. "See?" She was going to re-read it aloud to demonstrate her mightier English reading comprehension skills. "Ay-Lee-On- Ah!" She put a particular emphasis on the very last syllable to highlight Yachiyo's errant pronunciation. "Grey! Alina Gray!"
"Alina Gray?" A sudden pang of recognition hit Yachiyo like a bucket of ice water. "If that person really is the one who gave you this card, then trust me, you are going to be far served having nothing more to do with this girl whatsoever!"
"Whaaaaaat?" Tsuruno was taken aback. She thought Yachiyo would be thrilled to hear the news that someone else out there saw Tsuruno's great inner potential. That's what put that smile on her face on the way over. "Whhhyyyy?"
"I haven't met her personally, so I can't speak beyond what I've heard through anecdotes, allegations and reading public profiles of her in newspapers and trade magazines, but," Yachiyo prefaced. "She's a a real avant-garde type artist, the sort who would paint a picture of a beautiful landscape one day, only to use it as kindling in a literal dumpster fire the next." She recounted. "She'll agree to craft an expensive portrait of a wealthy businessman's family one day, then change her mind, toss the cash and mock them as too boring and vapid the next. She's also been accused of property theft, assuming possession of things that never belonged to her, and then using the loot as featured parts in elaborately crafted stunt pieces." She alleged. "No one can say for certain whether she pulls this crap as part of some sort of bizarre real world method act or if she's well and truly got a screw loose. Either way," She warned. "It makes me thankful Kyubey didn't grant contracts based on loose tabloid gossip!"
"But she didn't act all that weird to me!" Tsuruno insisted. That lingering tingle on her cheek from yesterday's kiss was compelling her to speak in the young artiste's defense. "She was courteous! Then she told me I had a model's looks and even had me pose for some photos!"
"I find it much more likely she was just buttering you up to play an unwitting role in her next prank trick," Yachiyo said. "There are rumors of a burgeoning movement of people on the Internet who seek to turn trolling nitwits into the next big performative art. It's a sort of Neo-Dadaism, and I bet that's the wave she's chasing and once she saw you she pegged you as the kind of girl who's naïve and trusting enough to be roped into her antics."
"Baaaaawwwwgghhh!" Tsuruno growled. She was a straight 'A' student in school who had a perfect attendance record, a sitting member of the Kamihama Magical Council, and she was both the spokesman and co-manager of a Chinese restaurant so successful a franchise spin-off just opened in Mitakihara. She was absolutely not going to take the implication that she was a naïve ninny lying down. "You're just jealous 'cuz someone thinks I'm pretty enough to star in a real piece of art, while your value only comes from selling stupid crap like clothing and magazines and soft drinks!" Not even from her vaunted magical mentor.
"You don't mean that," Yachiyo cooly retorted. "You're not mean enough to mean that."
"And once all the seven Decagon Balls are collected, and everyone wishes with all their hearts," Felicia had Yuma's pristine prized magical girl doll in her hand. She had borrowed it for visualization purposes. "Kugo can turn into the legendary Hyperian Hybrid!" She had also swiped seven of Yachiyo's spare Soul Support Stones and placed them in a seven-pointed star-shaped pattern around the doll on the floor. "And when he's in that form he can beat any force of evil in the universe, like ba…" She raised the toy off the floor. "Booooooooom!" She slammed it to the floor so hard the doll's legs blew off.
"You think I'm a softie? Is that it?" Tsuruno gasped. More and more rapidly the little cogs in her brain were clicking, all these questions and little contradictions that she'd shoved into the closet of her mind were piecing themselves together and becoming the solution to a puzzle she hadn't even realized was occupying that secluded space in the first place. "Nooooow it all makes sense!" She exclaimed, a budding tear in her eye. "Every time I try to step up to show I'm the mightiest, you pull some rug that holds me back! Who was it who had the guts to go and report Kanae as missing to the authorities?"
"I did," Yachiyo responded.
"Yeah, but that was only after I kept telling you it was the right thing!" Tsuruno countered. "Who was it that tracked down the witch that killed Mel all on her own? Not you or Mifuyu! Me!"
"You did?" There was a reason Yachiyo and Mifuyu couldn't bring themselves to challenge that witch. And the reason was because it was Mel. "Tsuruno, you shouldn't-"
"Who was gonna volunteer to tutor Rena and Kaede and skipped the big Chinese holiday so she could have a meet-and-greet with the newbies right at your front doorstep, until you strode down the steps and decreed that Momoko would be doing it?" Tsuruno yelled. "And then who gut punched me when she declared right on that very spot that our whole Mikazuki Team was disbanded?" Maybe her grocery store acquaintance was on to something when she opined that Tsuruno needed to stop living just to prove her worth to others.
"You were," Yachiyo gulped. "I did." It just hit Yachiyo too that she had slighted Tsuruno a lot more than just the base insult of withholding the Truth about witches and magical girls from her.
"Whose idea was it to go get Momoko and make that trip to Mitakihara because of how weird it was that a terrorist attack and a sudden superstorm could happen at the same time?" She cried. "And when it turned out to not just be any ole' witch attack, but a bleeping Walpurgisnacht, who thought up the idea to use our ultra-powered togetherness attack on it?" Her fist was balled, she had that free bop to Yachiyo's nose offer still on the table. This sure was feeling like an opportune moment to take her up on it.
"As you've been so keen to tell everyone whenever a chance arises," Yachiyo drew a contrite breath. She also made sure to close her eyelids before rolling her eyeballs so as not to let her exhaustion be misconstrued as yet another slight. "It was yours. What's your point?"
"My point is that I'm sick of trying to show I'm getting mightier when you never seem to acknowledge it. What's it gonna take for you to finally see me as your equal, Yachiyo?"
"I gave you my council seat, what more recognition do you need?"
"Baaaaaaah, you only gave me that seat because you wanted to free up the spare time to go look for Mifuyu!" Tsuruno spat. "Even though I wanted to come with you I did as you told, and then that thing with Hanna showed why I was right and you shouldn't be alone!" There was a palpable air of grievance building between the two of them. If Yachiyo wasn't careful, her next wrong move could put her on the receiving end of a knuckle sandwich.
"You're right, it was careless of me to venture out there on my own without some form of plan or backup," She conceded the point hoping it might lower the temperature of Tsuruno's tantrum. "But you gain little from playing the hindsight game and you defeat your intention by being so blunt and confrontational about it." The volume of their argument was then interrupted by the louder sounds of a wailing cry coming from the guest room, which was now doubling as Yuma's bedroom. "Yuma!" It was a second after joined by the similarly frustrated cry of Felicia.
"Waaaaauuuuuggghhhh! I didn't meeeean tooooooo!" Yachiyo ran over to find Felicia trying to pick up and piece back together the busted parts of Yuma's magical girl toy. And having no joy in the attempt.
"Give it here," Yachiyo took the toy away from Felicia. "Let me see." She inspected the wreckage closely.
"Yachiyoooooo," The sniffling Yuma begged. "Can you fix it?"
"Maybe I can." Yachiyo offered her the hope of a chance. "In my travels I once made acquaintance with a magical girl who could repair broken objects. If I can remember which town I met her, then it's just a matter of tracking them down again."
"Pssssh," Tsuruno pooh-poohed. "Why waste so much time and energy into a stupid toy? It's garbage, just throw it out and buy her a new one!" That such an unsympathetic statement could come from the mouth of Tsuruno, it made Yachiyo hit her with a disapproving double take.
"Because it was the first thing I bought for Yuma when she came to live with me." Yachiyo made sure Tsuruno saw that dim view she put on her face. "You don't just replace a sentimental favorite! How would you feel if those oven mitts Mel got you for our last Christmas as a team were so casually tossed out and replaced?"
"Oh, those?" Tsuruno remembered. "The insulation inside started tearing up, so last November I tossed them and bought new ones."
"You threw them away?" The look of shock on Yachiyo's face was enough to distress both Yuma and Felicia. "How could you do something so heartless?"
"Whaaat?" Tsuruno defended herself. "They're gloves! Just because something has sentimental value doesn't mean it deserves to be saved in a box under the stairs forever!" She huffed. "And besides, it's not like Mel's gonna throw a fit when she finds out! 'Cuz thanks to you, she'll never find out!"
"Tsuruno!" Yachiyo snapped. The presence of the two younger children were all that were keeping her outrage from spilling out and slapping Tsuruno. "It's okay," She closed her eyes, drew in a deep, calming breath and practiced a stress-relieving exercise where she clenched and unclenched her fists. "I know you don't really mean that." She exhaled. "Because I know you. And I know for a fact that Tsuruno Yui is not mean enough to place the blame on someone for a tragedy that could not have been prevented."
"Oh yeah?" Tsuruno however, was triggered. "Well, then maybe you don't understand me at all, 'cuz 'til now I'd been blaming myself for not being there to help you guys win! But now I think it's you who's at fault 'cuz you're the real softie!"
"That's mean!" Yuma whimpered, expressing Yachiyo's sentiment for her.
"Yeah? Well, the truly mighty have to get a little mean sometimes! Hmph!" Tsuruno stewed. "And punch through the baloney to get to the cold hard truths!" Felicia was sitting there, attentive, brows furrowed. Before the other day this young lady had been Tsuruno's responsibility, until Yachiyo once again arbitrarily stepped in. Maybe the first step in taking the lead would be by spilling the Truth that even Yachiyo had trouble saying. "Hey, Felicia!" She started. "You ever wonder what happens when a Soul Gem ge-"
"Don't. You dare!" Yachiyo stopped her with a prompt hand to her mouth. "Meanness is a tool of the weak and cowardly. Those of low moral character and those who try to raise themselves up by tearing others down." She only removed her hand once she was confident Tsuruno wouldn't blabber. "The truly strong are patient, caring, and such as I'm doing, know when they need to take a step back and bear with their aggrieved colleague's childish temper tantrum." She took out a handkerchief and wiped her hand, then bent over to offer it to the teary-eyed Yuma.
"That was mean," Felicia muttered at just a high enough volume for Yachiyo to hear.
"Yeah," Yuma agreed. She was scared, Felicia was piqued and Tsuruno was growing resentful. Yachiyo was without a doubt, stuck in a pickle.
"Tsuruno," Yachiyo breathed. "Would you mind doing me a favor and pick up Yuma after school tomorrow afternoon and go drop her off at Momoko's for the evening?" A novel idea had just popped into her brain. "And then will you come straight here afterwards?"
"Tch," Tsuruno crossed her arms. "Fine!" It was an idea that might just placate Tsuruno and mend their fences.
"You're gonna get that fixed, right?" Felicia pointed at the broken magical girl in Yachiyo's hand.
"Yeah," Yachiyo dried Yuma's tears with her handkerchief. "Don't you two worry." It might also prove to be the safest way to tell the Truth to young Felicia. "I swear I will find a way to repair all that's been damaged."
"Oh, hey, Tokoi!" Kyosuke Kamijo waved at his classmate as they found one another on their way to Madoka's house.
"Oh, hey, Kamijo!" His friend Tokoi tried to hide his surprise at the sight of Kyosuke arriving without vehicular accompaniment and walking with just a cane instead of a set of crutches. "Wow! You're lookin' plenty spiffy!"
"Aw, thanks!" Kyosuke appreciated the young man's compliment.
"I mean that tie of yours, man, top notch!" He went on. "I can picture the ceremony now: Walking down the aisle… Mister Kyosuke Kaname!" He ribbed.
"Tch," Kyosuke dismissed the teasing. "You better cut it right here with that 'Kaname' business or I'm gonna start callin' you Mister Katsuragi for the rest of time!"
"Oh, you promise?" Tokoi chuckled. "'Mister Kensuke Katsuragi'... Has a nice ring to it. Don't you think so?" Kyosuke's threat did little to dissuade the guy. "Sounds right out of an anime, too! You think I could convince her she'd be so cute cosplaying in one of those tight-fitting mecha pilot suits one day?"
"I wouldn't press my luck so early, if I were you," Still Kyosuke couldn't help but try to deflate him, even just a little. "You pair are barely more than classmates and you're already punching high enough above your weight as it is!"
"Yeeeeeeah," Tokoi sighed. "Maybe I'll start by talking her into putting on a purple wig and some pointed ears!" That kiss Kyoko gave bolstered his self-confidence so much, there was practically nothing Kyosuke could say that would bring him down this evening.
"Normally I'd start you off with a layer of foundation," Junko took a seat with Homura and a mirror at the kitchen table. "But your skin's already plenty pale. So instead how 'bout we apply some concealer to the little bumps and imperfections around your nose and cheeks first, and then see what we can do about those bags under your eyes?"
"Do whatever you'd like," Homura permitted. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath which puffed out her cheeks.
"Would you relax?" Junko insisted. "You can breathe normally while I'm doing this." She applied the first dab to Homura's right cheek. "So how's school been for you and Madoka?" An innocuous question, meant to get the conversation ball rolling.
"Uneventful," Homura replied tersely. It wasn't hard for her to figure out exactly what Junko was fishing for. "Miss Saotome still frets all the time about her personal life." She tacked on. "We've only just begun to cover the Edo Period in History," She reported. "More people want to talk about the Biology teacher's new mustache than about his lessons," She threw in some irrelevant chatter. "And the Algebra teacher's struggling to find a new favorite pupil to call after Hitomi Shizuki made her transfer to that new academy." And tossed in a factoid to serve as the next thing Junko would predictably ask about.
"So who's on track to be the new number one, now that she's gone?" Junko smeared her next bit of makeup around Homura's left cheek.
"Kamijo is," Homura answered. As anticipated and rehearsed, she was able to guide the direction of Junko's small talk. Next she expected Junko to ask about either the second seat, which was now Homura herself, or ask her if she thinks Kyosuke's superior marks might make him a tad overqualified to be Madoka's suitor.
"So who's been the one that's been putting up with all the secret love confessions, if it's no longer Hitomi?" Darn. She neither zigged nor zagged. No problem. Keeping control of this chat was going to be a little tougher than first anticipated, just roll with the waves.
"Kyoko," Homura told her.
"Are you jealous?" Out came the foreseen follow-up.
"No," Homura admitted. Her nose crinkled a bit at the tickling from the application of a light red tint of blush. Though she was concerned Junko might mistake her flinch for a possible lie. "She's just the shiniest new toy. Once the boys get to know her better they'll move on." So she repeated her earlier frank assessment in order to curb it.
"But you're plenty shiny, too," Junko complimented her, polishing her cheeks a nice rosy red with the applicator. "And you came onto the scene a month or two before she did, right?"
"Yes, but I'm the kind of person who doesn't welcome that sort of attention," Homura revealed. A small admission. Something Junko probably had already pegged her to be, anyway. "I'd much rather focus on my academic studies." She subtly tried steering it back towards the expected topics.
"Eh, but school isn't just about the book learnin' and stuff," Junko argued. She didn't bite. The audacity of the woman. "There's more value to the social experience than you might expect. Middle school especially, that's the place where you learn how you're supposed to deal with the opposite sex in a safe, low-stakes environment, so that you're better equipped to interact with them once you come of age and join society at-large."
"Oh?" Homura raised her brow. "But what if I'm not particularly inclined to join the rest of society?"
"Heh," Junko chuckled as she reached for the next cosmetic product. "You're so stolid it's sometimes easy to overlook just how young you still are!" She leaned in and pulled Homura's face a little closer to her own. "Hate to have to tell you, but at some point you've gotta learn to eventually meet the world on mutually agreed terms of some kind, or else you risk being treated unfairly and deemed unfit, summarily cast aside as they used to do to all the historical misfits, weirdos and freaks." She squirted a whitish cream onto the tip of her finger and dabbed it under Homura's eye. "Like those born with cognitive disorders, the physically handicapped, or the lepers. Or worse, mistreated and used up like the women who got stuck with the real raw end of the deal, like the old courtesans, wenches and witches." Homura recoiled upon the utterance of that third thing. It almost caused Junko to poke her in the eye.
"S- Sorry," Homura apologized and leaned back in. "Maybe society's right." She postulated. "Maybe I am a freak."
"I used to harbor similar such disparaging notions about myself at your age, believe it or not." Junko divulged. "So I get it. You're starting to gain a sense of what the world's really about, warts and all, yet still too young to be afforded all the privileges of participation. You see the adults ahead of you, filing themselves into little boxes and niches, and your first impulse is to reject that herdish mentality and do your own thing." She spattered another helping of cream on her finger and started working on the other eye. "But as human beings go, we just can't help but crave intimacy, so you search for belonging despite those reservations. But you've also matured to a point where you're both perceptive to nuance yet sensitive to criticism, so for every commonality you find with a potential new friend you see two or three crucial differences, and that can scare you from ever getting too close." She gently rubbed the cream into her skin, concealing the darkened skin. "And because of that you feel alienated, and those self-doubts, worries and fears form a feedback loop of angst and low self esteem."
"Hm," Homura breathed. She was about as off-script as she could get with Junko right now. She didn't know what to say next or how to retake the wheel. "How did you escape it?" So she asked for advice.
"Well as you finally reach adulthood, and after you spend enough time out there observing other people in the real world, you figure out a certain special secret about everyone." She signaled for Homura's ear to come closer with her finger so that she could whisper it to her. "We're all freaks in some way." She chirped with a grin. "Our Chief Acquisitions Officer likes to make his own funny animal costumes and wear them around at those otaku conventions. His secretary is a game show trivia savant. Our mail truck driver likes to participate in competitive races with pogo sticks." She jovially leaned back and smiled. "I mean who knew such a thing even existed? There's this girl on our accounting staff who won't rest until she's taken a photo of herself smooching with all of Japan's district mascots. Normal's just an arbitrary standard set by the entrenched rich and powerful so as to cast themselves as aspirational figures and to steer our anxieties towards feeding that great hungering maw that is modern capitalism."
"And here we sit playing their game right now," Homura observed as she watched Junko reach over for a case of eye shadow.
"Yes. This is one of those small compromises we must make so that our big, bold meeting with the world can begin." She opened the case and displayed it before Homura. "If you had any plans going on tonight I'd suggest a bolder color like this one or this one," She pointed at two distinct shades of violet. "But since this is just a trial gig, I think you'll be quite okay with this pleasant but not-too-flashy color over here."
"What's it called?"
"Periwinkle," Junko read.
"They make these words difficult for us Japanese to pronounce on purpose, don't they?" Homura joked, earning a hearty laugh out of Junko. "Okay. I'm fine with whatever you choose."
"And after you realize we're all freaky inside, and come to grips with who you are as a person, you'll finally be in a position to do something about those persistent warts on the world's rump." She tickled the area around Homura's eyelid with her first application. "Which I guess was a rather roundabout way to tell you that you have it in you to change the world."
If only she had any clue to how much I've already changed, Homura thought to herself. "I don't care to strive towards upending this world. My only longing is to be accepted by it for what I am." The doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" Madoka called down. Homura had pulled her head away from her session with Junko just long enough to watch Madoka hurry down the stairs and make her way to the door. She was dressed in a cream-colored long-sleeved sweater with six buttons, a plain tangerine shirt was visible underneath. To go with that shirt she wore a knee-length loose marigold dress and underneath she donned skin-tight beige jeans for warmth. Her shoes were mid-heeled amber shoes. With clothing choices so casual, the job of making her appearance really stand out fell upon her makeup, which had come a long way since Junko was helping her out. Indeed, she had done such a marvelous job applying her own makeup that Homura could not help but be transfixed from her spot in the kitchen. Her hopeful eyes, already the feature Homura saw as her most captivating, beamed a whole new level of idyllic charm when coupled with enhanced eyelashes and a lush pink eyeshadow. Her lips, smiling as they always should be, were plumped up by a most alluring shade of red. Her cheeks, sparkling with a passionate pink shade of blush and flourishing, were making Homura's own turn red with both envy and lust.
"Hey, Madoka," Kyosuke pecked one on her diminutive cheeks. "Muah!" He reached for her coat on the racking and helped her button it on.
"Kyosuke!" She greeted her date as he buttoned her up nice and tight.
"Is Kyoko ready to go yet?" Asked Tokoi from the frame of the entrance.
"I'm comin'," Kyoko called from atop the stairway. Her choices in fashion were much simpler than Madoka's, starting with a navy blue dress with four red buttons running down the center. The collar was wide and high which called attention away from her breast and up to her head and neck. The sleeves rested tight around the shoulder but loosened as they went, reaching just past her elbows, but Kyoko had them rolled up and fastened just above that point. Like the sleeves above the dress below was secure around her butt and waist but opened up as it ran down her legs, all the way down to her calves. To go with it around the belly she had an oversized blue belt with a big gold buckle at the center and a big red bow stitched to the right side. On her feet were simple knee-high socks instead of stockings and a very light brown pair of boots. Overall it looked like a garment set that at first glance would be mistaken as something more suited to church than a night on the town. "Welp." But her intent was to show off how well she could clean up in situations that necessitated her full earnest engagement. "How do I look?"
"You look," Tokoi on the spot went slack-jawed. "Beautiful!" He blushed and suddenly realized he was the most underdressed person in his plain red polo shirt and blue jeans. He was expecting his date to approach this get-together with the same sort of casualness. "Ahem," He straightened his collar, fastened a button, stepped forth, leaned in and tried to emulate Kyosuke's kiss. "Ow!"
"Oops!" But it turned out that Kyoko had tried to lay one on him at the same moment, resulting in a simultaneous bumping of their foreheads. "S- Sorry!" As they were rubbing their sore spots he quickly grabbed her other hand and offered up an apology kiss. "Muah!"
"Eh, no prob!" Kyoko salvaged her dignity with a chuckle and a grin. A mere few seconds, and the embarrassment had already gone away. "So where're we goin' first? Food?" Kyoko's first priority was always food.
"I was thinking we should all go do something fun first," Tokoi suggested.
"Oh? Like what?" Kyoko pressed.
"Well, on our way over, he and I were discussing things we've kind of always wanted to do but never had the chance to try," Kyosuke elaborated. "Have either one of you guys ever gone go-kart racing before?"
"No I haven't," Madoka shook her head as she took his hand. "Sounds like fun!"
"Hells yeah!" Kyoko agreed. "How in the heck have I never had that idea before?"
"The race tracks are just across the street from the skate park," Tokoi detailed. "At the foot of the hills."
"That's a pretty long walk from here," Madoka commented. "Kyosuke, would you rather we get a ride over there?"
"Nah, that's okay," Kyosuke declined. "Begging for lifts from grown-ups may as well be the same as asking for a chaperone." He twirled his cane around his injured hand as a show of self-confidence as the group headed out the door. "Tonight, I'm gonna show the world that Kyosuke Kamijo is back and getting around better than ever!" That was the last thing Homura overheard before the door closed behind them.
"Hey kiddo," Junko snapped her fingers twice in Homura's ear to regain her eyes and attention. "You mind turning your head back this way a little?"
"Oh," Homura blinked a few times rapidly and fidgeted with her fingers in her seat. "S- Sorry." She obliged Junko's request. The two sat there in silence for a few minutes, as Junko swabbed the eye shadow up around Homura's eyelids.
"You know, I had once prepared this big speech for Madoka," Junko broke the lull with a story. "Just in case the day might come where she tells me she thinks she might be one of those girls who's into dating other girls, and worried how that may change how the rest of the world sees her."
"Erm," Homura squirmed a bit. "And why are you bringing that up to me?"
"Oh, just watching her go out with her boyfriend, being so fun-loving and carefree, yet so responsible and concerned for his well-being," Junko swabbed the applicator sponge into the eye shadow tray. "Made me a little nostalgic for those days when she still needed me to give her guidance and tell her the grander life lessons, is all." Her finger signaled for Homura to tilt her head a little forward. "And as quiet and reserved as she used to be around males, back when she was practically sewn at the hip to Sayaka, for a while she had me worried about it as a potential possibility."
"I see," Homura swallowed. There was a hand mirror down by their side, but she didn't want to see the work in progress, fearing it might make her change her mind. "I suppose now with your fears abated, you think that time spent worrying and wondering and thinking of what to say was for naught."
"No, not at all," Junko revealed. "Not at all." She finished up on the eye shadow portion. "Parenting means prepping for the scenarios that don't come to pass every bit as much as the ones that do. It can help broaden your horizons and help one function not just as a better adult, but as a more loving and sympathetic human being too." Next she took out a tube of eyeliner. "It was a good speech, though. I guess my one regret is that she'll never have the chance to hear it."
"Eh, I'm sure it's nothing worth such a fuss," Homura remarked. "I imagine the only thing more tiresome than being on the receiving end of a lecture, would be being the one on the giving end."
"Oh, no, I wasn't gonna give her any sort of lecture," Junko corrected. "A lecture would imply there was something wrong with her being that way in the first place." She unscrewed the applicator from the top of the tube. She had a little difficulty in doing so, as her eyes were trained on Homura's placid face searching for any particular reaction to her words. "It was more of a pep talk." She had another hunch about this girl, going by the way she watched Madoka descend down those stairs. "Tell her it wouldn't matter who she loves or what paths her passions take her through life. That my support for her would be unwavering." There was a certain ardor to it, like how her Receptionist would discreetly eye the Administrative Services Manager whenever they'd encounter each other in the breakroom, or at the water cooler or when sharing the elevator. "But unfortunately we live in a society that's been powered by the treadmill of tradition for hundreds and hundreds of years. She'll have to face extra hardship, judgment, injustice and even outright cruelty having done nothing to warrant all that hate." They were both guys. When coupled with how viscerally she reacted to the idea of Madoka moving away, led her to a revelation she experienced when the Receptionist confided his feelings to her once while they shared a coffee break on the first floor cafe. "And as much as I want to protect her from all those self-interested forces bent on preserving the status quo, I know I can't." She noticed Homura swallow a big lump right down her throat. If she wasn't careful, she'd risk causing that make-up to get wet and run in clumps down her face. "Because I can't be a constant presence in her life. When I'm not there only my words can serve as her source of strength and inspiration." A good line she'd recalled from her speech. Now would be a great time to actually remember the rest of it. "And love." She gently stroked Homura's lush lashes with the delicate little brush. "So my advice would be that no matter what tricks or traps those vile creatures may put in her path, she must draw upon her greater inner strength in order to rise above it and become a beacon of hope and courage for everyone like her and unlike her to rally alongside." Then she went to work on the other eye. "For darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that. Nor can hate drive out hate. Only love can do that." That last part she couldn't take credit for. It came from a manga she'd read growing up. Up rolled her final piece of the project, the lipstick.
"Madoka is very fortunate to have you," Homura's voice quavered. Her lips trembled and her nostrils twitched as Junko rubbed it on. "As her mother." She sniffed, barely stifling any and all tears. Still a visceral enough reaction that all but confirmed she had let Junko in on her most deeply personal secret, and she didn't even need to say a word about it.
"Aw I'm no all star or expert," Junko deflated herself. "I just do as much as I can with what I got. Which is only a couple extra decades worth of experience." Her make-up session was essentially finished. She could have grabbed the hand mirror down beside them and indulged in a bit of personal satisfaction from revealing the results of the makeover session. "Sounds like you might have a wee bit of a cold coming on." But there was no need. "There are tissues in the bathroom. If you need to freshen up in other ways, feel free to use it as long as you need." She was beautiful just as she was.
"Thank you," Homura rushed out of her chair and headed for their spacious bathroom.
"Before we begin, let us first clear up one big misconception concerning the nature of computer science and programming," The class instructor addressed the collection of two dozen boys and girls in attendance at his first lesson. Two of the girls present were Hitomi and Saya. "Those who struggle to make the grade in my class are the ones who take the approach that machine coding is just another boring mathematics or science class. It is not." He tapped a small black button on the remote on his lectern, and the virtual whiteboard behind him flashed a new screen.
01010111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00111111 00100000 01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110000 01110101 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01100101 01111000 01110100 00100000 01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101100 01100001 01110100 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100101 01111000 01110000 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101000 01101001 01100100 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00101101 01101001 01101101 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100 01100001 01101110 01110100 00100000 01110000 01101100 01101111 01110100 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101100 01101111 01110000 01101101 01100101 01101110 01110100 00111111 00100000 01010111 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100100 00100001 00100000 01001001 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110011 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100001 01110101 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110010 00101101 01100011 01101000 01100001 01101110 00100001
"Sure academic institutions and collegiate admissions officers will regard it as such, but the reality is that it is, in fact, a course on learning a brand new language." Hitomi was busy taking fastidious notes while Saya was keeping eye contact with the teacher. "You see, in order to carry out their express purpose, which is to serve as the tool of mankind and assist in his development as the dominant life form on this planet, the tool and its user must be able to communicate with one another in a manner that is clear, efficient, and universal." He pressed the button on his remote and a new string of ones and zeroes scrolled across the board. "Like the many tongues of Earth there are literally hundreds of programming languages and each is growing and changing by the day. But whatever the evolution, they all start at this simple two-sided foundation." His hand directed their attention towards the display on the board.
01001110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01001001 00100111 01101101 00100000 01100011 01101100 01101111 01110011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 00110101 00110000 00100000 01100011 01101000 01100001 01110000 01110100 01100101 01110010 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01111110 00110101 00110000 00110000 00110000 00110000 00110000 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01100100 01110011 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01100001 01101011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101111 01110000 01110000 01101111 01110010 01110100 01110101 01101110 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01110101 01101100 01100111 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01110100 01101100 01100101 00100000 00110100 01110100 01101000 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101100 01101100 00101101 01100010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100110 01110101 01101110 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101100 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00101110
"This is binary. It is the most fundamental representation of data. Any number, any character, any symbol, any image can be broken down and converted into this rawest form." The class was rather eclectic in how it was made up, with students a year or two behind Hitomi in grade level on one end, and a couple juniors and even a senior on the other. "It's been said that math is the only truly universal language and if our colleagues at the Murakami Array ever hope to establish contact with races above our own, then they need to be fluent in it. But binary is math distilled even further, all the way down to its two most rudimentary values: One and Zero. Something and nothing." The examples on the display scrolled onward.
01010100 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101011 01110011 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101001 01100011 01101011 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01110010 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110000 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100111 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110111 01100101 01101100 01101100 00101110 00100000 01001001 01100110 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01101110 01101011 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110011 01101000 01101111 01110101 01101100 01100100 00100000 01110011 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110101 01110000 00100000 01100001 00100000 01000100 01101001 01110011 01100011 01101111 01110010 01100100 00101100 00100000 01110000 01101100 01100101 01100001 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110111 01101001 01110100 01101000 00100000 01100001 00100000 01101011 01110101 01100100 01101111 01110011 00101100 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01101101 01100101 01101110 01110100 00101100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110110 01101001 01100101 01110111 00100000 01101111 01110010 00100000 01100101 01101101 01100001 01101001 01101100 00100000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100101 01110010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01100011 01100101 01110101 01110011 00110001 00111001 00111000 00110111 01000000 01100111 01101101 01100001 01101001 01101100 00101110 01100011 01101111 01101101
At the edge of Hitomi's eye she caught someone wandering past the open doorway, then stopping, turning around and coming back. "Yes and no. On and off." He went on. "White and Black. Go and stop. True and False. Alive and dead."
"Good and bad?" The girl standing in the doorway chimed in.
"Good and bad is a relative concept," He corrected. "Rooted in the instinct to survive at the individual's baser conscious level and the collective's drive to flourish when scaled up." He tugged his glasses slightly down onto his nose. "I suppose if you want an example that extends beyond the strictly material and into the philosophical or spiritual, then I suppose you could go with broken and unbroken… Yin and yang."
01000001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 00100000 01110010 01100101 01100111 01110101 01101100 01100001 01110010 01101100 01111001 00100000 01110011 01100011 01101000 01100101 01100100 01110101 01101100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110000 01110010 01101111 01100111 01110010 01100001 01101101
"Oh," She beamed a shy but friendly smile. "Neato!" She was carrying with her black leather briefcase and a stringed instrument, to the curiosity of the whole class looking her way. "Uh, well you see… I'm the music teacher's new assistant and I've been circling around this building trying to find her classroom for a while now, but whenever that holographic guide character pops up and I ask it for directions, the darn thing misunderstands and sends me the wrong way!" She may have been a teaching assistant but she was wearing one of the school's standard green uniforms. Her hair was a silvery white bobbed cut with two curly cowlicks sticking up like horns, one of which she was teasing with her right index and middle fingers.
"Yes, the technology was rolled out without going through the proper bug testing phase," The instructor apologized via an explanation. "Its ability to understand the spoken word is rather hit-and-miss."
"Which is another binary example," Saya pointed out without prompting.
"Yes, how true," He nodded. "The music hall is in the arts wing, north end of the school. Keep going down this hall to the blue painted area, then head up either two more floors on the lift or up the main staircase."
"Do you need assistance?" Saya asked her, turning and tugging at Hitomi's sleeve. In response Hitomi stopped trying to multitask and put her eyes upon their visitor.
"We at the Heroes Club are happy to help students and faculty alike," Hitomi fumbled her pen.
"Well the teacher sent me a text over lunch requesting that I pre-write the next lesson for her on the board and set up the sheet stands," She detailed. "But I've wasted so much time wandering these halls that I'm running behind schedule." She put her concerned hand to her mouth. "Ooooh, but I couldn't possibly take you two away from such a captivating presentation as that one."
"Not a problem," The teacher dismissed the pair with a backhanded wave. "The point of my opening statements was to let them know that the students who succeed are those who take this class as a chance to broaden their linguistic horizons instead of yet another place to memorize equations and formulas." With permission granted Saya and Hitomi gathered their things, stood up and made their exit.
"What's your name?" Hitomi asked after they trekked several meters away.
"Mifuyu," She answered. "Mifuyu Azusa."
"And that instrument you carry is a koto, correct?" Saya kept the conversation going.
"Yes it is," Mifuyu smiled. "At my old school I was the koto club president from the start of middle school all the way up to my graduation." She handed off her instrument to Saya. "Can either of you play one? I ask because I would like to jumpstart a new koto club in this school."
"No," Saya replied. With that their eyes both immediately set upon Hitomi.
"I was given a few lessons back when I was in elementary," Hitomi disclosed. "But I can't say I'm all that interested in joining a musical club right now." She had not been asked to divulge her reason, but she felt obliged to tell them anyway. "A recent bad experience with a boy and his stringed instrument has turned me off that genre for a while."
"Are you talking about your romantic entanglement involving Kamijo and your other friends at Mitakihara Middle School?" Hitomi appreciated that Saya had not asked her about the grimiest of Hitomi's troubles in her old life. But enough time had passed. Maybe the reason she volunteered that information to their new acquaintance was because now she was in a place comfortable enough to speak of it again?
"An 'entanglement'?" Mifuyu touched fingertips in interest. "Do tell."
"She was seriously enamored with a boy in class but so were two of her friends," Saya rehashed the shortened version of the story. She made a quick visual glance back at Hitomi trying to discern whether she should divulge the rest or let Hitomi take over.
"I ran away," Hitomi confessed as they headed up the staircase. "I couldn't see how else I could make the situation right, other than to extricate myself from it entirely." She watched her two little feet traipse up the stairs step by step, a habit born from a childhood fear of tripping and tumbling head over heels. "I made one bad choice, and my overriding dread was that any other decision I may have made afterwards was going to risk making my problems worse."
"I can understand that," Mifuyu reached the top of the first staircase and waited for the two to catch up. "Really, I can. The problem with living the life of a privileged rich girl in this land, your every waking moment is preplanned and your every activity is supposed to have an express purpose. You're always expected to obey and it is never proper to complain." They caught up and ascended the next flight of stairs. "So when the first time something comes along and it offers you the first choice that's all your own, one that could very well shape how you take those precious early steps into womanhood, and you make a mess of it, you become so averse to the pain that it makes you want to flee from the root causes."
"Wow," Hitomi was amazed by the girl's keen intuition and relatability. "What did you run away from?"
"Adulthood itself," Mifuyu smiled her way through a crestfallen sigh. "There I was, nineteen years old. College plans already made. Majors already set. Life goals already plotted." She sighed. "I felt so trapped in my life. I could hardly breathe. Even the person I was to marry was a preselected choice." Saya handed the koto back to Mifuyu as they all got to the top of the steps. "So when this new school posted its mentorship program that would allow recent top-of-the-class graduates to serve as special aids to teachers and students in exchange for college credit and basic moving expenses, I jumped at it." She chuckled. "It took a whole lot of begging and cajoling, but I managed to sell my parents on the idea, and the bottom line is, I get to play pretend schoolgirl and defer growing up for juuuust a little while longer."
"Is that why you dress in one of our uniforms?" Saya probed.
"Ehhhh… The reason for my getup is because students are way more inclined to talk to their peers than to those they see in positions of authority," Mifuyu clarified. "No disparity. I mean, look at what's been spoken between the three of us." Her smile morphed ever-slightly closer to a smirk as the right door came within sight. "Will you pair please set up the stands, while I'll write out these lesson plans?" She requested in such a sweet and ingratiating way as to be impossible to turn down.
"Okay," Saya and Hitomi said at once. "Onetwothree jinx!" Hitomi exclaimed. "You owe me a cranberry juice!"
"Tee-he," Mifuyu tittered. "Good to see some old traditions never go out of style." She set her koto aside on the table, picked up an electronic writing tool and went to work.
"Saya, is there anything in the rulebooks that prohibits faculty or special aids from joining clubs?" She pulled two stands from the closet. Saya was able to grab two with her left hand, three with her right.
"No." Saya recalled. "Faculty are allowed to start clubs so it stands to reason there would not be anything that prevents them from joining an existing one."
"How would you like to join our 'Heroes Club,' Mifuyu?" Hitomi extended an invite.
"Hmm?" On the premade staff Mifuyu jotted out the first notes of the lesson song. "And what would your 'Heroes Club' be all about?"
"Help teachers with basic chores, council students, and assist the other clubs whenever they need extra hands for major events." Saya elaborated.
"Basically the same things you do already." Hitomi summed.
"Will Saya Otonashi please report to the Nurse's Office?" An announcement blared over the public address speakers.
"Oops." Saya finished setting up her stands. "I volunteered to be the Nurse's assistant this week." She bowed before heading for the door. "It was so nice talking with you. I do so hope you are willing to join us in our new club."
"Thank you for your most gracious offer," Mifuyu returned a bow. "When we see one another again, I believe my answer will please you." She teased and returned to her task.
"That melody of yours looks pretty intriguing," Hitomi caught sight of the notes Mifuyu was writing on the board. "Is that an original composition?"
"Why yes it is," Mifuyu said. "The song is mine. I wrote it not long ago after being pretty laid out with a cold."
"What'd you call it?"
"It is pretty pretentious, really," Mifuyu prefaced. "The medication must have done a real number on me." She checked her notes, as she had crafted the title in English and needed to sound it out. "I named it… 'Gamma Unbound'."