Qiluo picked up her coat from the back of the chair, draped it over her shoulders, and looked at the messy sofa and coffee table.
The Wings of Freedom looked nothing like a proper organization should. They had no regulations, no discipline.
Just a bunch of Magical Girls shut out by the regular world.
As Qiluo turned to head for the door, Night Sakura poked her head out from behind her screen. “Our debut livestream is this Saturday. Do you want to come watch it with us at headquarters?”
“...We'll see.”
“So you're coming.”
From behind her, Kohinata's voice rang out, loud and full of chuunibyou flair, as she read the caption of their first teaser post for the livestream: “Look forward to it! The Wings of Freedom's first livestream! We will show you the most authentic daily lives of Magical Girls!”
Then came Amamiya's flat deadpan: “If you rolling around the headquarters all day counts as daily life, then yeah, that's pretty authentic.”
Right after, the muffled sound of pillows smacking against faces echoed through the fire door, already somewhat faint.
Qiluo pushed open the fire door. A sound-activated light in the hallway flickered on, its dim, yellow glow barely illuminating the stairs leading up to the surface.
She zipped her coat all the way to the top. She still had homework to do tonight, training with Kurokawa-san at Star-trail's place, and shelves to stock tomorrow... She decided to just go back and sleep first.
“Lightweaver.” The sound of wheelchair wheels rolled up from behind.
Qiluo turned around. Misa Tachibana had stopped her wheelchair at the fire door, holding a manila envelope. The hallway's sound-activated light happened to shine directly overhead, making the dark circles under her eyes look even more pronounced than they did under her desk lamp.
“This is your organization allowance. Everyone gets one, but since you just joined, yours is a little less than theirs.” Misa Tachibana held the envelope out.
Qiluo didn't take it. She looked down at the manila envelope, thinking about how this woman used her own salary to support everyone in this underground base...
“...I only joined a few days ago.”
“Even a few days makes you a member. The other three got theirs too. If you don't take it, the financial books won't balance.” Misa Tachibana pushed the envelope an inch closer.
“And this doesn't mean you're obligated to fight alongside them in the future,” Misa Tachibana added, rolling her wheelchair to the edge of the stairs. “Temporary members are still members. You don't have to take missions if you don't want to, and you don't have to appear on camera if you don't want to. But the allowance is fixed.” She looked up, the warm yellow light softening the dark circles under her eyes.
“...Does your job really pay enough to cover a base salary for this many people?”
“It's enough. I don't spend much on my own anyway. I don't have a partner, and there's nothing I really need to buy.” Misa Tachibana's tone was casual, her hand still holding out the envelope.
Liar. Qiluo looked at the dark circles under her eyes but didn't say the word aloud. Just because you don't spend much alone doesn't mean you don't need rest.
But she knew saying it would be pointless, just as pointless as telling Mingyue that she didn't have to push herself to the limit alone every single time.
Every single one of them was like this, constantly saying “I can handle it” and treating a few seconds of catching their breath against a wall as actual rest.
She reached out, pulled a single banknote from the envelope, and pushed the rest—envelope and all—back into Misa Tachibana's hand.
“I'll take this one. As for the rest—” Qiluo folded the banknote and slipped it into her pocket. “Let's keep it as my contribution to the organization funds. Use it to buy snacks for the next stream.”
Even one bill was a start. Misa looked up at Qiluo. “Just now, back inside... did you think we were being too reckless?”
“...A little. You guys don't even have a plan for how to respond if the Association's official account publicly calls you out and questions you.”
“We really don't,” Misa Tachibana admitted with complete composure. She was so candid that all the follow-up complaints Qiluo had prepared were rendered utterly useless.
“From when the Wings of Freedom was just me to having this many people now, we've taken every step just like this.” Misa Tachibana looked up to meet Qiluo's eyes, staring at the stars in her pupils post-transformation.
“If we don't have regulations, we write them on the fly. If we don't have funds, we work overtime. I won't deny that we're reckless.”
She paused. At the end of the hallway, only the light directly above them remained lit, casting its glow right onto the steps between them.
“What do you think a Magical Girl should be like?”
The question froze Qiluo in her tracks. She hadn't expected the Store Owner to ask something like this. What did she think a Magical Girl should be like?
Since coming to this world, Qiluo Tian Gong's understanding of Magical Girls had relied entirely on the internet and the Association.
Girls like Shizuru Kirishima, who swallowed her grievances and refused to speak of them; girls like Yuki Kurokawa, who meticulously reviewed her performance after every single battle; and the sparkling Meruru she saw online.
“They are already doing great.”
“They—” She paused, swapping the word “you” that was on the tip of her tongue to “they.” “At least they don't stay up in the middle of the night staring blankly at combat notes, or force themselves to endure on the battlefield alone without calling for backup... It's nice. It's reckless, but it's nice.”
Something flickered in Misa Tachibana's eyes, as if the words had touched an old wound she herself had forgotten. Yet she didn't look away; instead, she smiled.
“The Wings of Freedom might seem too chaotic to you. But this chaos is exactly what I want to protect. Not every Magical Girl has to be as flawless as the ones the Association churns out.”
“They can squat by the edge of the battlefield and gasp for air after a fight. They can say the wrong thing during idol activities and let their fans correct them. And when they get hurt, their first reaction can be whining to their teammates about how much it hurts, instead of writing an after-action report.”
She looked away from Qiluo's face and toward the door deep in the hallway. From behind it, the faint sounds of Kohinata and Night Sakura still bickering could be heard.
“Not every Magical Girl has to be perfect like the Association's models. They can just be ordinary girls who trip and fall sometimes. Because nobody ever taught me how to be an ordinary Magical Girl.”
“Back when my Contract Spirit was still around, it always complained that I was too serious. It said I always kept a stiff face after a fight and never smiled, even when I won. I asked it what use smiling was. Smiling doesn't increase your combat power.”
“It told me that while smiling didn't increase my combat power, it made me look like a living human being. Looking back, it was right.”
“...Don't suddenly start talking like that.” Qiluo turned her head away, shifting her gaze to the flickering sound-activated light at the corner of the stairs.
“I'll come on Saturday too. I'm not just humoring you; I really will be here.”
Misa Tachibana nodded. Without pressing further, she simply said, “See you Saturday.” She turned her wheelchair back toward the fire door, the wheels making a rhythmic, soft clicking noise against the concrete floor.
Qiluo turned around and walked up a few steps, then paused, without looking back.
“Store Owner, what do you think a Magical Girl should be like?”
“A Magical Girl should occasionally be a fool.” Misa Tachibana's reply drifted over from the other end, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “It took me twelve years to learn that, but I can finally do it now.”
Rate on N.U.
