Chapter Text
Honestly, Akane’s least favourite part of any match was the first moments.
In kendo, especially, kneeling on the ground, staring her opponent on with her sword in hand. It wasn’t difficult by any means, not after so many years of practice, but the endless effort to keep herself still as her heart pounded in her ears was still just that. Seemingly endless.
If her opponent had the same issue, he didn’t show it. Although she supposed that was the point.
Of course it was barely more than a few seconds before the referee gave the word, and the two fighters stood, warily approaching each other with their weapons drawn. Neither attacked at first, their eyes roaming over the other’s body with the familiarity of two old foes, sizing each other up for any new weaknesses, new tells.
Akane had fought this boy—Morishige Kujou—several times before. He was, to his credit, a genuinely skilled and experienced opponent, having fought many, many fighters during the last few years of tournaments. He had lost most of those fights, yes, but Akane was not so small-minded as to not understand the lessons in loss.
His hesitation bore that out. As much as she knew him, he knew her. This was not a match to be won with arrogance.
I’ve still got the reach advantage, Akane thought, shifting her grip ever so slightly. Not moving his ankles as much. Did he hurt himself? Doesn’t matter.
She wondered what he thought of her, what evaluations he was making of her stance, her skill.
Or if, despite it all, he was still calling her a bitch.
The seconds stretched on, the two fighters circling around each other, neither quite willing to commit.
Behind her helmet, Akane gave a small huff.
Fine.
She took a small step to the right, shifting her shinai with her before juking left, darting forward with a loud “DO!” as she drove her blade towards his chest.
She wasn’t exactly surprised when her opponent blocked her blow, forcing her sword off before stepping back and darting in himself with a rougher, deeper “MEN!” as he swung for her head. Without pause, she forced her blade back up and blocked his strike, the two locked together for a moment before stepping away.
There was another moment of wariness. Distantly, Akane heard the crowd cheering her on, but pushed it aside, focusing on little more than the steps of her opponent.
Then, he struck, yelling out as he swung for her head. Akane blocked his blow and stepped to the side, narrowly missing a follow-up strike to her arms. Before he could react, she struck, cracking her shinai off his head.
A clean hit.
Off to the side, she saw the referee wave a red flag. Her flag.
2-1.
Her favour.
She won.
The cheers from the crowd grew even louder. Akane couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, suddenly, achingly aware of the tremor in her arms. Still, she kept herself standing, walking over to her spot and turning to her opponent, giving him a small bow.
Only then—only then, with the fight truly, genuinely over, did she let herself smile.
Finally, she glanced off to the side, into the small crowd gathered to watch her fight. It wasn’t exactly full of scouters and reporters—this wasn’t really so much of a match as an old grudge—but she recognised everyone, and that made it all the better. Akemi shaking her head and laughing, knowing as well as Akane did that this wasn’t ending any other way. The rest of the kendo team, Saki, Minami, and more, cheering her on like she won a national championship. And beside them…
Beside them was an empty spot in the bleachers.
Akane tore her gaze away, hoping her frown would look like respectful determination as she peeled off her helmet.
Of course, there was no one there. There hadn’t been in nearly two years, and yet, despite reminding herself of it every morning, despite the absence curling around her heart like piano wire, she couldn’t stop herself from looking over, expecting to see a familiar smile.
Mom used to come to every match, after all. Big or small.
Akane had the changing room to herself after the match, much to her pleasure. It was awkward enough crouching under the showerhead as she scrubbed herself clean of sweat, and even more so to do so with an audience.
Not for any, like, weird reasons, just—
It was.
Showering took about twenty minutes. Akane spent a little extra time washing her hair, rubbing a generous dollop of shampoo into her long, crimson red locks before following it up with an even more generous helping of conditioner.
When she was done, she dried her hair as best she could with a towel— yes Akemi, I know it’s bad for my hair, but it’s never stopped growing, so it doesn’t really seem to matter that much, now does it?— before tying it back into a familiar, comfortable ponytail, then dressing herself in the school uniform, a typical, black sailor fuku, black fabric with white stripes and a wide blue ribbon.
Clean and ready, Akane turned to the mirror, giving herself a once over. She pulled at the hems of her sleeves and skirt, scowling slightly at the way. She raised her arms above her head, wincing as the sleeves pulled taut around her wrists, and at just how much leg her skirt showed off.
“I hate growth spurts,” Akane muttered, English flowing off her lips as easily as melted honey.
She let her hands fall and shook her head, bending down to pick up her bag before walking out of the change room. The rest of her equipment—her armour, shinai and the like would stay here, in a marked locker.
By the time Akane left the change room, the gym had largely cleaned out, the rest of the Kendo club, male and female, having cleaned up the scattered chairs and equipment. Only two girls were waiting for her, absorbed in a muted conversation as they sat by the wall.
Akane raised a hand and waved. “Akemi! Saki!”
The two looked up, Akemi giving Akane a quick grin before Saki jumped to her feet—and kept jumping, heels bouncing on and off the floor as she held her hands in front of her.
Saki was a small thing, barely coming up to Akane’s stomach, with deep black, shoulder length hair spilling over her shoulders. She always reminded Akane of a small dog, in a lot of ways—full of energy, quick to move, and what she lacked in skill with a blade, she more than made up for with pure enthusiasm.
Case in point…
“Akane!” she cheered. “That was awesome! You kicked his butt!”
“I defeated a difficult and honourable opponent,” Akane replied, her voice taking on a stern tone. Then she cracked a smile. “By kicking his butt, yeah.”
Saki giggled.
Akane looked around the gym. “Where’s the rest of the team?”
“Headed home. Not everyone could afford to stay an extra three hours, Ms. Enthusiast,” Akemi said, rising to her feet and fixing Akane with an easy smile.
She gave a lot of those, Akane had learned. While Saki was someone Akane only knew through the kendo team, even if she did call her a friend, Akemi had been her best friend for over a decade. She wasn’t quite as short as Saki, even if Akane could still casually rest her arms on the crown of Akemi’s head. Her bright, wide eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled, pushing a strand of blue-highlighted hair behind her ears.
Akane rolled her eyes. “I told them we were having a debrief after.”
“Yeah. Three hours ago.”
“I’m still here!” Saki said, holding up a hand.
Akane nodded, fixing Saki with a firm stare. “Good. Tell me, what was his first mistake?”
“Fighting you,” Akemi drawled.
Akane gave her a look.
Saki scrunched up her face for a moment, then gasped softly. “He let up. After the first scuffle, he—he fell back, tried to get his bearings back.”
Akane nodded. “Exactly, yeah. It was a good idea—you have to be thinking when you’re fighting—but it gave me time to set him up. He needed to keep me off balance, and he didn’t.”
“And couldn’t,” Akemi added, shrugging when the two kendoists turned to her. “What? Let’s not exactly dance around it, you had him out-classed.”
Akane huffed. “Yeah, well. That’s not exactly a lesson, is it?”
Akemi shrugged. “Never start a fight you can’t finish. Doesn’t seem like a bad lesson to me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Akane waved her off, and began to walk towards the door, the two girls falling into step beside her.
“She has a bit of a point though,” Saki admitted, looking up and screwing up her face in thought. “I mean, you had a big reach advantage on him.”
“I have a big reach advantage on everyone.”
“Only reason you got a damned point.”
The rougher, lower voice drew the three girls’ attention towards the door. Standing there, leaning against the wall with a sour look on his face, was Kujou.
He looked smaller outside his armor, his arms curled tightly into his sides as he glowered up at Akane. His hair was cut roughly into a crew cut, his nose bent slightly, like it had recently been broken and never quite healed right.
Well, not like it had been broken.
Akane was just surprised he never got it fixed.
“Kujou,” Akane said, her voice low and steady. “What are you still doing here?”
He looked up, craning his neck back as he stared Akane in the eyes, glowering. “’Cause the fight ain’t over. Not ‘till you pay what’s due.”
Saki stepped forward. “Let it go, Kujou! You lost fair and square!”
Akemi crossed her arms. “Seriously, dude. You’ve been harping on Akane for months.”
“Because she’s a fucking cheater!” Kujou spat, his arms held in tight fists by his side.
“Say that again, one more time, Kujou, and I swear to god—”
Kujou sneered. “You don’t scare me, you hafu freak. You don’t belong here—you never have, and there is nothing that little whore of a mother ever did that changed that, bit—”
That was the last thing Kujou said before Akane’s fist hit his jaw.
The shorter boy stumbled back, falling to the ground in a heap of limps. Blood trickled from his lips, drops falling on the floor as he woozily shook his head.
Saki gasped.
Akemi shook her head and sighed. “Oh, fantastic.”
Akane stood over Kujou’s prone form, breathing hard as she glared down. “Don’t you ever, ever talk about to my Mom like that again,” she spat. “Don’t you dare even think of her like that, you festering little pile of goat shit, or I swear I will break your arms.”
“Fuck you!” Kujou spat, then, faster than Akane anticipated, lashed out with his leg, the bottom of his shoe crashing into the side of Akane’s knee.
Akane buckled, falling to her knees. Kujou pushed the advantage, pulling himself upwards and throwing a wild haymaker at Akane’s head.
She barely managed to lean out of the way, grabbing his arm and pulling.
As she pulled, she spun on her knees, pushing herself upwards while throwing Kujou off to the side. She aimed a kick at his chest, then used the resulting momentum to throw them both apart.
She stood, watching her opponent wearily as he did the same. Kujou was breathing hard—and with a noticeable wince. It looked like Akane had cracked a rib.
She smiled grimly. Good.
“W-what are they doing?” Saki asked.
“Having a pissing contest,” Akemi replied.
Akane raised her head and spoke. “You’re not winning this, Kujou, and you know it. You’ve got a chance against me with a shinai. Bare-knuckled, you’re screwed.”
“ Piss off!”
Akane smirked. “And your English is shit.”
Kujou growled and got to his feet.
“Yeah, well, English isn’t usually something you teach in a sparring match, now is it, Akane?”
Akane paled slightly. Turning her head, she watched as another, almost actually tall woman strode into the gym, a bob of dark red hair shimmering under the fluorescents as her bright blue eyes took in the two combatants with a careful eye.
Akane sighed. “Hey, sis.”
Haru smirked. “Hey, Akane. This a new type of kendo match, or you just… having some extracurricular exercise?”
“Finishing what someone else started.” Akane’s back turned to Kujou, whose eyes had gone wide with terror upon seeing Haru. Haru stared at her for a moment, lips pressed into a firm line. “We’ll get back to that,” she said, turning towards the boy. “As for you…”
“Fuck off. I didn’t start this.”
Haru snorted. “Yeah, that I don’t doubt. I know who tends to throw the first punch. But she doesn’t start without a reason. Akemi, you want to shed some light on this?”
Akemi met Akane’s eyes briefly, then shrugged. “He called your mom a whore.”
Haru’s eyes darkened. She turned back towards Kujou with a fire in her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Asshole. Oh, sorry, Mr. Kujou, right? Son of Morimasa Kujou, right?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You know my father?”
Haru nodded. “Big shot up at the university, right? Funding the new biology lab. Real proud of his boy—'a rising star of modern kendo’, right? Right?”
Kujou nodded slowly.
“Probably wouldn’t be too thrilled to find out his kid is picking fights with girls, huh? Wouldn’t reflect all that well on an honourable, respectful kendoist, now would it?”
Kujou stared at her for a moment. “Are… are you threatening to tell my dad?”
“No, I’m threatening to hang you up by your panties in front of your dad’s office and invite the media,” Haru stated bluntly. “Get the fuck out of here, and never talk to my sister like that again.”
Kujou glared at her for a moment, then stepped back, shifting his gaze to Akane as he walked away. “This isn’t over.”
“It better be, if you know what’s good for you!” Haru called after his retreating form.
The four girls stood there for a while, the only sound Akane’s heavy breathing as her heart slowed. She wiped the sweat from her brow, then turned to her sister with a glower.
“I had that handled.”
Haru snorted. “Oh, yeah. Handled. That’s why you were getting into a brawl on school grounds. Again.”
“That idiot doesn’t know his right from his left without a stick in his hand. I had him dead to rights.”
“You know, by most standards, getting into a fight is the opposite of having something handled.” Haru sighed and shook her head. “Whatever, look, I’m not getting into this right now. Akemi, and, uh, whatever your name is, sorry you had to see that.”
“Might as well apologize for the sun rising,” Akemi drawled.
“It’s—it’s okay, Miss—”
“Takemasa. Same as Akane,” Haru answered.
“Miss Takemasa!” Saki finished, bowing slightly. “Is that—normal?”
“Yeah, I get into a lot of fights. I thought we weren’t getting into that, though?” Akane said, raising a brow.
Haru, to her credit, looked a bit sheepish. “We’re not. Yet. You two should get going. It’s going to be dark soon, And I’m not exactly drowning in space in my car.”
“Fair enough,” Akemi said, shrugging. She raised a hand, giving Akane a wave. “See ya, Akane! Don’t forget—we’re watching the next Nanoha episode together!”
“I’ve seen the show before! I’m not that impatient!”
“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that.”
Akane shook her head. “Dumbass. Hey, Saki, looking forward to seeing you at practice on Monday. Show the rest of the club what they missed out on, yeah?”
“Yes ma’am!” Saki replied, bowing deeply before turning and walking away.
Akemi gave another wave to Akane, and one to Haru before doing the same.
Within a few moments, it was just Akane and her sister left in the gym.
Akane didn’t look at Haru, but she could still feel her elder sister’s eyes boring into her back.
Haru coughed. “You should—you should go wash up, quick. Get… that off your hands,” she said, her English carrying even less of an accent than Akane’s.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Don’t take too long though,” Haru warned. “Dad’s waiting at home.”
Finally, Akane turned, giving her sister a wane smile. “Waiting for the birthday girl, huh?”
Haru gave her a brittle smile back. “Yeah. Welcome to being seventeen, sis.”
Akane blew out a breath. “Yay me.”
“Stop that,” Haru said.
Akane withdrew her hand. “Sorry,” she said.
Haru rolled her eyes.
The two were silent for a while after that, Haru concentrating on the road until they came to a stop at a red light. They idled there for a while—then longer, as the intersection gradually became clogged with a mess of firetrucks and ambulances.
“So,” Haru started, still staring straight ahead. “How many fights is that now, huh?”
“We have sparring matches in the club almost every day. I haven’t exactly been counting them.”
Haru flicked her eyes over. “Don’t play dumb.”
Akane huffed, leaning back in the seat. “What do you want me to say, Haru? I’m not in some kind of—of fight club, alright?”
“And yet Dad or me have had to drag you back home after a fight sixteen times this year, sis. Sixteen times!” Haru huffed, shaking her head as the light turned green. “I have no idea how the hell you haven’t gotten suspended yet—”
“Because they started it!”
“—but your luck isn’t going to last forever. You know that.” Haru went quiet for a moment, her attention shifting as they merged onto a small highway. “…Mom’s not going to bail you out anymore.”
Akane pulled up her legs. “I know, sis.”
Haru bit her lip, glancing off the road briefly. “If… you want to talk about it, I… I know I haven’t been around as much, but…”
Akane huffed. “Why, so we can pore over police reports together?”
“That’s—”
Haru snapped her jaw shut and looked away. “Fine. If you want to be like that—”
Akane sighed, rubbing her face. “No, no, I’m sorry, I just… I’m sorry. Just… on edge, I guess.”
“You’re always on edge,” Haru noted.
“I know.” Akane looked away. “Today’s just… worse.”
Haru looked over at her again and nodded.
She didn’t need to say it, not really.
After all, a big sister never forgot her sister’s birthday.
Even if Akane kinda wished she did.
She hadn’t always hated her birthday. No, growing up she was like any kid. Her birthday was one of the favorite days of the year, a day both her parents would always take the time off from work, buy her a bunch of presents, and then do something with her—take her to a movie, out to a zoo, an aquarium—Disney World, once, even if she’d been a little too short to enjoy that to its fullest. She had a lot of fond memories of her birthdays, days spent with family and friends.
Now all those memories tasted like ash.
Her birthday was on the first day of January.
Her mother died on the last.
Was murdered on the last.
Even two years on, it was hard to feel like celebrating the same month as her mother’s death.
She wasn’t there when her mother died. No one was except her, a friend, and the monster who did it, but sometimes Akane could still see the moment in her mind’s eye, the flash of light as the gun fired, the splatter of blood from her mother’s chest, her screams as the man kept firing.
The two girls were quiet for the rest of the way home, Akane watching as the moderately busy city gave way to houses and then, finally, her home.
Haru pulled into the driveway and pulled on the handbrake, before pulling the key out of the ignition.
She rolled her shoulders. “Akane, could you go grab the door? I’ve got some boxes I need to grab.”
“Sure.”
Akane unlocked the car door and stepped out, noting absently as her sister did the same, before looking up to her house.
It was not, by any definition of the term, a small place, given that it was two stories tall and extended rather far into the backyard. The slatted walls were painted a dark grey, with large, wide windows showing hints of the living room. Beside the driveway laid a smaller stretch of cobblestone, leading from the road up to the front door.
With a small smile, Akane walked the path up to the door, taking care not to let her feet touch the next stone in the sequence until she stepped forward. When she was younger, she almost used to be able to fit both feet on a single stone. Now, it was hard to keep them from overhanging.
On instinct, she reached into her pocket and fished out a key, unlocking the door and stepping in, holding the door open as her sister, carrying a large box filled with textbooks and camera equipment stepped in behind her.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Haru kicked her shoes off, stepping past Akane and into the living room, setting the box down on the table with a small sigh, giving her arms a bit of a shake before sitting down on the large, plush couch which dominated the rest of the room.
Behind the couch—and most of a wall—lay the kitchen, the delicious scent of roast meat wafting through the open archway separating the living room and kitchen. To the right of that, the room narrowed into a hallway, leading to a flight of stairs and two of the house’s bedrooms, as well as the bathroom.
Not for the first time, Akane couldn’t help but stare at it all for a moment. She’d spent her entire life here, and found the spacious rooms and tall ceilings normal, simple, but if there was anything joining a club taught you, it was that some of the things you took for granted were nowhere near as guaranteed as you thought.
Haru stretched, groaning slightly. “God, what a day. We’re home!”
A familiar, comforting voice called back. “Welcome home!”
From around the wall that led into the kitchen, Akane’s dad, Larsen Takemasa, walked out. To most, Akane was sure he would make for an imposing sight. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a long, scraggly red beard and almost equally long mane of red hair atop his head. His clothes didn’t really help his image—the pale green tank top and dark black cargo pants made him almost look like the soldier he used to be.
Well, save for his bright pink apron, “World’s greatest amateur cook” printed on the front in English.
Haru cracked a smile. “Hey Dad. When’d you get home?”
“’Bout an hour ago,” he replied, walking up. “Crew can do without their captain for a bit, I think.”
“We’ll see,” Haru said, opening her arms and giving him a hug.
Dad laughed, ruffling Haru’s air as he returned the hug, before stepping back and turning to Akane. “And how’s my other little girl doing? School was good?”
“I’m only three centimeters shorter than you,” Akane grumbled, before reaching forward and giving her Dad just as big a hug as Haru gave.
“Still little to me.” Dad ruffled her hair, squeezing tight.
“Ha ha.” Akane let go and stepped back. “School was… it was good. Had a bio test, but it went fine.”
“That’s good. Kendo was alright?”
Akane shared a glance with Haru. The older girl rolled her eyes, then nodded, mouthing “Birthday gift” to her sister.
She turned back to her dad. “Club was fine. Had a demonstration against one of the boys on the other team, kicked his ass, you know.”
Dad smirked. “Oh, you won? Now there’s a surprise. You didn’t hurt him too bad, did you?”
Akane glanced away. “No, no, it… it was a nice, clean fight, you know. Proper kendo.”
“It was a real show stopper. Only caught the end of it, but still, really… interesting to witness,” Haru said, holding her hands behind her head. “You should have been there, really.”
Dads face fell. “I’ll try next time, kiddo, I promise. Today, we just…”
Akane shook her head. “It was just a sparring match, Dad. Seriously, you didn’t miss anything.”
“Still.” Dad sighed, then rolled his shoulders before gesturing towards the kitchen. “Anyways, you guys hungry? Went a little, uh full ham today.”
Akane nodded eagerly. “Starving, yeah! What else did you make?”
Dad chuckled, turning around and leading the two towards the kitchen. “Ah, well, you know. Roast ham, some potatoes, gravy. Little much, I know, but…”
He trailed off as the three entered the kitchen, and Akane caught sight of what was within.
The kitchen was split into two areas, he actual kitchen itself, consisting of a small room, surrounded by a U-shaped wall of counters, the stove, and the fridge, and then, over the counter, the dining area proper, an overhead bulb spilling orange light over a small, aged oak table and corresponding chairs.
The table was mostly bare, save for three plates, a handful of metal cutlery, and a small, obviously handmade white cake, “Happy Birthday Akane!” emblazoned on the top in shaky script.
Akane’s mouth went dry.
Haru looked between the two of them, then stepped back. “I’m going to go wash up.”
Dad shot her a tired smile, then stepped forward, and rested a hand on Akane’s shoulder.
“I know it isn’t much, but you said you wanted it small, so—”
“I said I didn’t want anything,” Akane growled.
Dad sighed. “I know, kiddo. I just—we didn’t do anything last year, and—”
“For a reason—!”
“—and it’s your Mom’s cake.”
That brought Akane up short. She looked back at the table, at the cake.
It didn’t look like anything special, but her Mom had never been much of a baker.
“She…” Dad paused, sucking in a deep, unsteady breath. “She was looking forward to today, a—a lot. She talked about your seventeenth every other month. Couldn’t tell you why, really, but… it mattered a lot to her.”
Akane was silent for a moment. She stared at the cake, and stared, then turned away, hanging her head as she looked up to her dad with shimmering eyes.
“If you start singing that song, I’m gonna punch you.”
He laughed. “You know, I’d almost like to see that.”
“Dad!”
He laughed again, reaching out and ruffling Akane’s hair. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
Akane leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his stomach and pulling him into a hug.
“Love you, dad,” she said, shifting to English as easily as she breathed.
He froze for a moment, then, slowly, forced himself to relax.
“Love you too, kiddo,” he replied, in perfect, practiced Japanese.
He gave her shoulder another squeeze. “Come on. Actual food before dessert, all right?”
Akane snorted, burying the hurt under her skin as she pulled away and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, because roast ham and potatoes is so much healthier than cake.”
Dad huffed. “I made beans too, you health nut.”
“And cabbage?”
He sighed. “And cabbage, you little freak of nature.”
“Stop complaining that your daughter likes vegetables,” Akane replied, wagging her finger.
“Yeah, yeah. Help me with the plates, would you?”
“Sure thing.”
It didn’t take long to get the plates of ham, potatoes and more set out on the table, the cake covered and left on the counter for later. Haru rejoined them a few minutes later, and the three sat down and ate, talking and laughing amongst themselves.
Despite it all, Akane couldn’t help but smile a little at the occasion. The three of them rarely had a chance to sit down together for a meal, between Haru’s college work, Akane’s clubs, and her dad’s work, and most of their meals were decidedly more simple than this.
The opportunity was… special if nothing else.
Even if Akane spent much of the next hour glancing at the empty chair at the end of the table and knew her family was doing much the same.
Eventually, they moved onto the cake, thankfully skipping any particular formalities before Dad cut the cake apart and served a slice to each of them.
It was, still, a simple cake after all, vanilla with lemon icing.
But it tasted good. As it always did.
After they were finished, Akane leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes as the heavy meal settled in her stomach.
Haru huffed. “Whoever votes not to move for the next three hours, say aye.”
Akane raised her hand. “Aye.”
“Aye.”
“All in agreement, yay.” Haru let out a soft, quiet groan. “But, sadly, the horrors of academia never rest.”
“Got homework?” Dad asked.
“Mountains. All the professor decided now was a great time to assign like, a thousand essays. So much fun.”
Akane cracked her eyes open. “Really selling me on the college experience there, sis.”
Haru waved her off, rising to her feet with a wince. “Ah, shut up.”
Dad frowned, giving Haru a stern look. “Don’t work yourself too hard. That school of yours is pushing you damn hard as it is, sending you out onto the streets every other night. Not saying it’s a bad idea, but they’ve heard of sleep, right?”
Haru shrugged. “Journalism comes with late nights, Dad. Part of the job description.”
“Still.” Dad sighed, then stood. “Akane, you mind helping me with the dishes?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
Haru gave them a wave. “Have fun.”
Akane stuck out her tongue. “You too, Miss Lane!”
“Oh, ha ha, ha, ha ha ha. Hilarious.” Haru shook her head, then left, walking through the living and up the stairwell.
Akane turned back to the table, slowly pulling herself from her chair before piling up the remaining plates and cutlery. Dad grabbed what was left of the cake, tossing a cover on its tray, then carrying it to the fridge.
The two worked in silence for a while, Dad packing away the leftover meat and vegetables while Akane threw what would fit into their small dishwasher, before filling up the sink and beginning work on the larger dishes. It was a companionable, comfortable silence, broken only when her dad cleared his throat.
“So,” he started, scrubbing the stovetop. “Anything else going on at school?”
Akane shrugged. “Not much. Akemi’s been doing a new project in art—some kind of impressionist painting or something, you know I can’t keep track of all the terms she throws around.”
“Girl likes her technicalities, that’s for sure,” Dad agreed. “Nothing else?”
“Nothing exciting.”
Dad hummed. “No fights?”
Akane froze, halfway through scrubbing a steel frying pan.
She set it down in the water. “The school called?”
“The school called.”
Akane bit her lip. “Damn it.”
Dad let out a long, slow sigh. He stepped away from the counter, tossing his rag into the sink and leaning against the countertop.
“I know Haru’s already chewed you out,” he said, quiet and slow. “I just…”
“You just what?”
He pressed his lips into a firm line. “I just want to know what’s going on, Akane. They said you already had a history with this guy.”
Akane gripped the side of the counter, hard enough her knuckles turned white. “It was Kujou. The smarmy jackass who runs the boys’ kendo team?”
“I remember the multitude of colourful language you’ve used to describe him before, yes.”
“We had a sparring match. Today,” Akane continued. “He’s been talking crap about me for weeks, ever since we ranked above them in that regional tournament. Kept saying we couldn’t have possibly beaten them, that we cheated, that the only reason we won is because we flashed our tits and sucked off the judges at the competition.”
“So it was a grudge match, and when he lost…”
“He picked an even worse fight,” Akane spat.
She shook her head. “But it wasn’t a grudge match, I mean. I was—I was proving him wrong, showing him—all of them—how stupid they’re being. Which, I know, I know, it sounds like—like that, but—”
“Akane—”
“He’s been harassing people, Dad!” Akane snapped, smacking the countertop. “The other girls on the team, girls in class, dozens, okay? And that’s just what I’ve heard about, what I’ve seen.”
Dad sighed, rubbing his face. “And if they found you after you pulled him off a girl, I’d be cleaning your wounds and buying you ice cream, Akane. But that’s not what happened. That’s not why you threw a punch.”
Akane looked away, staring at her shimmering, shaking reflection in the murky water of the sink.
She grit her teeth. “What do you want me to say, Dad. I’m sorry? I was wrong? You know I don’t think that.”
He stepped forward. “I know, kiddo, but—”
“Mom started training me when I was two, Dad,” Akane continued. “Okay? I have been a martial artist my entire life, and it feels like she was the only person who understood what that meant.”
“I know it’s important to you, Akane, and I don’t want to take that away, but—”
“It means I’m supposed to help people, Dad! That’s why I’m a martial artist, that’s why I’ve spent half my life in dojos, alright? Stopping assholes like that is the point. If the next time, when he starts thinking of hurting someone, he remembers what it felt like when I hit him, and that makes him stop, then—then that’s good. I’ll pay the price.”
“You know it’s not that simple, kiddo.” Dad looked away, turning towards the back window and staring at the setting sun. “I… your heart’s in the right place, but—”
A harsh, sharp chirp filled the air. Akane and her Dad both winced, before he let out a brief growl.
“Fucks sake,” he muttered, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at the screen. “Sorry, Akane. It’s from work.”
She waved him off. “Probably more important, then.”
He shot her a dirty look, but answered the phone. “Hello?”
There was a barely audible squabble of noise from the other hand. Dad sighed. “Seriously? Suzuki, it’s my kid’s birthday.”
Another burst of noise. Dad grimaced. “Fuck. Okay, yeah, I’m on my way.”
He pulled the phone away, ending the call, before looking up with a pained expression. “Sorry, Akane. Just got a huge fire downtown, and they need every pilot they can get their hands on.”
Akane shook her head. “It’s fine, Dad. Go save some lives.”
“We’re not done talking,” he promised, putting his phone away and speedwalking out of the kitchen.
“I know!” Akane replied. “Love you Dad! Stay safe!”
“I’ll do my best!” He called back, the door opening and closing behind him less than a moment later.
Akane stood alone in the kitchen for a moment, eyes lingering on the front door, until she shook her head and turned back to the dishes. It didn’t take long to finish the last few pots and pans, leaving them to dry in a rack in the other sink.
The kitchen cleaned, Akane stretched out her back, then walked out, grabbing her bag by the front door and trudging up the stairs.
The top of the stairs led out into a small hallway. On Akane’s right was a closed door leading to her parents’—her Dad’s room, and on her left was a small hall closet, and three other doors. One led to the bathroom, the other to Haru’s room, and the last, nestled away at the very far end, was Akane’s.
She walked down the hallway, pausing by Haru’s door, and rapping her fingers against the surface three times.
There was a shuffle on the other side, and then Haru pulled the door open, staring at Akane with bleary eyes. “What’s up?”
Akane jerked her thumb towards the stairs. “Dad’s gone. Got called in.”
Haru huffed. “Seriously, again?”
“Big fire, apparently.”
“Great.” She sighed. “Sorry, Akane. He was looking forward to tonight.”
Akane shrugged. “Yeah, well. Just figured I should let you know. Need anything?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine, Akane. You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“Good.” Haru let out a small yawn. “God, I think I’m gonna hit the hay soon. Keep it down, will ya? Rather not spend all night listening to cute anime girls screaming.”
“Hey, you know damned well I don’t watch that stuff!”
“I’m talking about your magical girl marathons,” Haru replied, rolling her eyes. “Just wear headphones or something, nerd.”
“Fine,” Akane groaned. She shook her head, then stepped forward, pulling her sister into a tight hug.
“Love you, sis.”
Haru chuckled, replying in clean English. “Love you too.”
After a moment, Akane and Haru pulled apart, the door closing a second later.
Akane rolled her neck, then turned around and walked into her own room, setting her bag down on the floor and just… relaxing.
As much as she loved her house and her family, there was nothing quite like your own space. This had been Akane’s room since the day she was born, and the history of her life was embedded in the walls. The wall just by the door still had pencil marks from where her Mom had measured her height for so many years, until she finally stopped growing. The rest of the walls were covered in a multitude of posters, some somewhat embarrassing relics of her past, like the collection of Hello Kitty! calendars above her bed, while the rest were a mix of action movies and anime designs.
The furniture was sparse, but attractive. A somewhat tall desk with an attached bookshelf sat in the corner of the room, next to the large window and her closet, while her bed, a small, western style mattress with ample pillows and stuffed animals sat in the opposite corner. There were a few other items of note, a collection of weights on the floor, an end table with a rat’s nest of charging cables beneath it, and, of course, her Collection.
It deserved a bit of a capital C, or so Akemi claimed, and for all that Akane had protested, she couldn’t really argue it now.
The Collection started with a bookshelf, wide, deep, and tall, set against the far wall. Most of its shelves were taken up with books—manga, novels, and more—along with rows upon rows of plastic cases for movies and shows. The rest of the space, every free spot was filled with some kind of figurine, a mix of collectables, action figures, and even a few handmade or 3D printed pieces of art.
There were dozens of series represented on that shelf. Dozens of publishers, authors, years, and more. There was only one real unifying theme. One genre that tied it all together.
Every book, every DVD, every manga and every toy was about magical girls.
Dropping her school bag to the floor, Akane walked over, smiling to herself as she adjusted the stance of a Fate Testarossa figure.
Her first love was martial arts, for sure, and Akane would never be accused of being an unfaithful lover, but magical girls had earned their own share of Akane’s heart. Most of the shows and manga, she knew, were more intended for girls half her age—or men with a decade on her—but there was something about the genre she just found entrancing. Young women her age taking up arms and battling against evil in all its forms, making a difference with every ounce of power they had.
She had her favourites, of course—as much as she adored her complete set of Precure, there was a reason she had a posable figure of Fate, and why she had spent so much time tracking down the entire Holy Quintet—but Akane truly adored nearly every magical girl property she was able to get her hands on. Even some of the more… atypical examples of the genre, like Kampfer, still had their place in her eyes.
And right now, she felt like some of those books had a place in her hands.
Sighing to herself, Akane stepped away from the shelf, sitting down at her desk with a small thud.
There would be time later.
She flicked on her PC and waited while the slumbering beast woke itself back up. If she’d been shopping on her own, Akane probably would have gone for a laptop, but the large, rainbow brick was a gift from Haru, a mishmash of old parts she was using from her old system before she upgraded at the start of the year. By 2019 standards, it was something of an aging wreck, but honestly it was still more than powerful enough for what little Akane did with it.
And no, she didn’t need a fancy SSD or whatever Haru claimed would speed it up. It worked fine.
With the computer booted, Akane opened up a web browser, a half-dozen tabs popping to life. She scrolled through a few social media sites, liking and retweeting the official kendo tournament advertisements, before idly mousing over to her school’s homework site.
She glanced at the list of assignments and winced. It wasn’t that many, all things considered, but…
She just didn’t feel like schoolwork right now.
Thankfully, her phone gave her an excuse to look away, playing a short little ditty from the original Precure’s opening.
The ringtone she used for messages from family.
She quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket and unlocked it, before tapping open her messenger app.
Neither her Dad nor Haru had sent her anything.
But there was a message at the top of her screen.
From Mom.
Happy birthday kiddo.
Check your email.
Akane stopped breathing.
Without thinking about what she was doing, she tapped the messages, checking if they were legitimate, if the number made sense, if…
They were. It did.
Akane swallowed.
With trembling fingers, she turned back to her computer and opened her email program. True enough, there was an email. She didn’t recognise the address—it looked like it came from one of those proxy accounts Haru liked to use, but the subject line made it clear who it was from.
To my Little Burning Star
Akane gasped. “ Mom. ”
No one else called her that. Very few even knew Mom called her that.
Akane quickly pulled open the email, only to find an empty message, and a video file.
Feeling a hint of paranoia, she opened her antivirus and ran a quick scan of the email. After a few moments, it popped up with an all-clear.
There was nothing Akane could do to deny it any longer. It was real.
She swallowed, then, slowly, clicked the file, and opened it.
It took a moment for her video player to start up, a brief loading screen on screen as she waited for the file to download.
And then, for the first time in two years, Akane saw her Mom’s face.
She was younger than she had been the day she died, a full year’s worth, if Akane guessed. She had her brown hair cut shorter, and her face lacked those hard lines it gained in those last few months. But it was still unquestionably her, Hotaru, Akane’s mom, sitting in her closet/recording room.
Akane almost started crying.
And then she started to speak.
“Hey kiddo,” Mom said, smiling into the camera. “If you’re seeing this, I’m either dead, or I forgot to shut off the email before you turned seventeen . I hope it was the second, really.”
She sucked in a breath. “But if it’s not, if you’re watching this because I’m not there anymore, then… there’s something I need to tell you. I made this video because I knew it was possible I wouldn’t be able to tell you this in person. That there might be things you need to know that you won’t have anyone to tell you.”
Mom paused for a moment. “But, Akane, you have to understand, this isn’t something small. There’s a reason I didn’t tell you until now. A reason that I waited, a reason that I wanted to keep waiting, until you were an adult, until you knew who you were. But that’s not an option anymore.”
Mom leaned forward. “You can’t tell your sister and your father about this. I know, you trust them with your life, but this isn’t about trust. It’s… the more they know, the more danger they’re in.”
“Danger?” Akane whispered.
“By telling you, I’m putting you in danger too,” Mom admitted, leaning back. “But you’ll be able to defend yourself.” Her lips quirked up. “You’ve always been a fighter.”
She paused for a moment, then laughed. “God, what am I doing? I’m dancing around it even when I know I don’t have the time.” She shook her head. “You get so used to lying, saying the truth… it’s hard.”
She looked back up, starting at the camera—straight at Akane. “The truth is, kiddo, is that I’ve been lying to you. I’ve been to your father, to your sister, to almost everyone you know. I’m not just your mom, I’m… more than that. I have these… powers. They were passed down to me from my mother, and now I’m passing them onto you.”
She laughed again. “Of course, you don’t believe me, but you will. Keep watching the video, Akane. Don’t look away, not even for a second.”
Her Mom stood, pushing her chair back as she stepped away from the camera. Akane followed her instructions, keeping a close eye on the video.
“You ready?” Her mom asked. “Pause if you aren’t.”
Akane didn’t.
“Good.”
For a moment, it seemed like nothing happened. And then her mother burst into flames.
Akane jumped out of her seat. “Mom!”
Less than a breath later, the flames fell away, leaving her Mom—unharmed—behind.
Except, no, that—that wasn’t her Mom, it couldn’t be, she wasn’t—
But, she was—
For a moment, Akane’s mind went to war against itself, unable to recognize the woman on the screen as her mom, and equally unable to believe she wasn’t.
And then, like the pop of a balloon, the war stopped.
It was her mother.
Clad in an outfit unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
Her mother’s hair, normally kept loose, had been pulled back into a tight bun. Her clothes—originally a comfortable sweater and slacks—had been swapped for a dark orange dress with a small bow around the waist, and a floral pattern up the side.
“I hope you watched all the way through,” her Mom said, smiling. “Otherwise, this is going to be very confusing.”
Akane’s eyes widened. “Holy shit.”
“I have a lot more powers than changing my clothes, of course, but I suspect your father would notice if I burned the house down,” Mom continued, laughing slightly. “For the rest, I suppose you’ll have to discover them for yourself.”
After a moment, she sat back down, leaning down to the camera. “These powers came from these,” she said, turning her head and lightly lifting her earrings—a golden orange crystal Akane recognised on sight, and yet she knew she had never noticed before. “My mother gave them to me when I was your age, and now… I’m doing the same. These powers, the… abilities, I have, physical or otherwise… all yours, now.”
She leaned back, fixing the camera with a steely gaze. “Including the responsibility. These powers… I have them for a reason, Akane. There are monsters out there that threaten everything. Everyone. It’s my—our—responsibility, to fight them. To protect those who can’t protect themselves.”
She glanced down. “Shit. I’m running out of time. Akane, kiddo, I can’t, and won’t, make you do this. It’s… it’s not safe, it’s not fun, and some of the things you’ll see… the things you’ll do… no one else is going to understand them. But it’s all necessary. It has to be done. And you’re the only one who can do it.”
Her Mom gave her one last smile. “I know you’ll make the right choice, Akane. I believe in you, I know you’ll make me proud. I just wish… I wish I could have been there, to see what kind of shining star you’re growing into. To see the hero I know you’ll be.”
She leaned forward. “I love you, Akane. I love you more than I ever thought I could. I… I’m sorry. For everything.”
The video ended.
Akane stared at the blank screen for a long while, barely hearing anything other than her own quiet breathing.
It was funny, really. The first thing she thought of was how she hadn’t realised she’d been forgetting her mom’s voice. Hearing it again, even through her crappy speakers, was… nothing short of a miracle.
Then, slowly, the reality of what she had said sunk in.
Akane’s head whipped up.
“You were a magical girl?” she whispered.
Mom had never said it, of course—she’d never really understood Akane’s interest in the genre—but it was clear as day to Akane. The transformation, the trinkets, even the monsters…
She was a magical girl.
She leaned back in her seat, frowning, before pulling the video back and rewatching the transformation, once, twice, and again.
It didn’t look fake—and although she knew as well as anyone how easily computer’s could make the impossible look real, she also knew her mom had never been very skilled at that. She knew how to make videos—she ran a YouTube channel for most of Akane’s life—but anything more advanced than basic editing, cuts, a little colour correction, that was beyond her.
Haru could do more—she had the hardware for it, for one, and the skill, but… she wouldn’t do something this cruel as a practical joke.
Unless they set this up before she—before, and just forgot about it.
Akane looked back at the video, staring at her mom’s face.
She looked serious, staring at the camera and almost seeming to will Akane to believe her. Mom was good at lying, at acting, Akane knew that, but—but she was her daughter.
She knew Mom better than that.
But, still, the idea that she was telling the truth, that her mom had magic, was… it was hard to wrap her head around.
Of course, Akane had imagined what it would be like to get magic. She couldn’t count the number of times she’d daydreamed about stumbling onto a transformation pen or meeting the fairy princess of some alternate dimension. Hell, she’d even imagined what it would be like to have Kyubey show up with a contract.
But that was all those were. Her imagination. Fantasy. Mom had never said anything different. Never suggested that Akane’s flights of fancy could ever and would ever be anything different, except, now—
Now, she was saying magic was real. That she was an honest to god magical girl.
And, apparently, so was Akane.
Or she would be. Once she had her mother’s earrings.
Her birthright.
If she wanted to find out if her Mom was telling the truth, if the video and the light show was anything more than special effects, they were her best option.
Except I don’t have them, she realised, frowning.
Mom hadn’t said how she would get the earrings, exactly. Akane assumed they must have been left to her in her will, or maybe…
A sudden spike of panic struck her heart. What if they were stolen?
Hotaru had been killed in a mugging, after all, and even if suddenly that explanation made as little sense as it always had to Haru, it still raised the question that maybe, somehow…
But then Akane remembered. She had seen those earrings after her mom’s death. During the funeral, when…
When her Dad had taken them, and tucked them away in his pocket. It was the last time she’d seen them.
…which meant she had a pretty good idea of where they might be now.
Akane had almost never been in her parents’ room. It wasn’t some kind of rule, explicitly, but it had never felt right either. Even now, standing on the threshold, it felt like she was about to commit some kind of crime.
She sucked in a breath. No turning back, Akane.
Slowly, she opened the door and stepped in.
The first thing that struck her was just the smell. Not of rotting food or anything like that, thankfully, but sweat. Old sweat, the kind that had sunk in deep.
Looking around, the reason for the smell became clear rather quickly. The room was a mess, piles of random clothes left everywhere—the floor, the dresser, and more. There was a method to it—Akane could see a clear path between the unmade bed, the bathroom, and the dresser, but it was clear there hadn’t been any real effort to keep the room clean.
Mom would have hated it.
Akane couldn’t exactly blame Dad, though.
She flicked on the light, blinking as the harsh white fluorescent flickered to light. There were a lot of places Dad could be keeping her Mom’s earrings, but the most likely spot was…
There, on the dresser. Her mom's old jewelry box.
Akane made her way across the room, avoiding the clothes as best she could, then slowly lifted the box.
It was an old wooden box, with silver-grey vines pressed into the dark wood. Years ago, her mom had told her that she’d been given this box by her mother, and that she in turn had gotten it from her mother, and so on and so forth for as long as anyone could remember.
She barely even remembered that story, until now.
It didn’t take anything fancy to open it. Akane swung the latch open on the front, then set it back down before opening the lid.
She recognised a few pieces of jewelry in there—a necklace, a bracelet—and, of course, the earrings.
They were smaller than Akane thought, a pair of orange hexagonal crystals with white lines running through their surface. Reverently, gently, she picked them up, holding them against the light and seeing into their somewhat cloudy innards.
They really weren’t anything special. It wasn’t a surprise Akane had never noticed them before, and yet her breath caught.
It was strange, really. She could almost feel the potential in her hands, the sheer power represented by these two crystals. They weretiny, barely weighing more than a one yen coin.
And they were hers.
She brought her hands down, looking at the dresser’s mirror, at the scared girl staring back. At her long, bright red hair, blue eyes, the nervous frown on her lips.
“I don’t even have my ears pierced,” Akane mumbled.
It was such a stupid, silly thing to worry about, but Akane couldn’t help it. Her stomach heaved and rumbled, nerves dancing with butterflies.
She wasn’t even sure if she believed her mother, wasn’t sure if the crystals she held in her hands were anything more than just that—crystals. Yet Akane couldn’t shake the fear and worry that settled into her stomach, suffusing her body with lead.
What if her Mom was wrong, that Akane was less than she thought, weaker, more childish? She’d said that Akane would “make the right choice,” but had she? Even if magic had worked for her, would it really work for Akane? Or would it look at her, look at the scared little girl, and see someone too small, too normal?
Akane looked down to the earrings and grit her teeth. Mom believed in her. And just as importantly, she believed in herself.
She looked up at the mirror—
And stopped.
The earrings were in, dangling from their earlobes like they had always been there.
Akane blinked, looking around herself.
She wasn’t in her parents’ bedroom anymore. She was in the bathroom, downstairs, standing over a blood-splattered sink, with a painful ache in her ears, her hands, everything, like she’d just spent the last few hours in a full-contact spar.
She looked down at her hands again, and paled.
They were coated in blood.
Her blood.
“ Akane? You there? ”
Akane jolted up. That was Haru’s voice!
“Not answering your phone… Akane? You in the bathroom or something?”
Akane swallowed. “Um, yeah! Yeah, sorry, I’m here!” she yelled back, doing her best to keep her voice level.
Even from here, Akane could almost feel her sister’s sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god. Can you come out? You’re not the only one who needs to piss right now!”
“Uh, in—in a moment!” As fast as she could, Akane turned on the tap and started scrubbing, wiping as much blood as she could from her hands, the sink, the counter. She tried not to think about what would happen if her sister saw it, where it came from—
“Akane?”
“I said a minute!” Akane snapped, before stepping back from the sink. Normal room.
She looked up at the mirror. Normal girl.
Except for the two orange earrings dangling from her ears, almost looking like they were glowing.
Akane fiddled with her hair, undoing her ponytail and doing her best to cover her ears before pulling the door open.
Haru blinked. “You’re done?”
Akane nodded. “Um, yeah, yeah! Sorry, just—you know, just cleaning, and—stuff.”
Haru raised a brow. “Cleaning, huh?” She looked around the bathroom. “Is that why everything’s covered in water?”
Akane nodded again. “Yep!”
“…okay.” Haru shook her head. “Sorry, haven’t seen you in hours. Kinda thought you left. Everything okay?”
Akane forced a laugh, resisting the urge to check her ears with her hands. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry, I, uh…”
What the hell had she been doing for two hours?
“I, uh, I think I’m gonna go to sleep, actually. Long day, you know?” she said, before slipping beside Haru and stepping into the hallway.
Haru blinked. “Um, yeah, sure, I mean, it’s pretty late and all, yeah, but—are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine!” Akane replied, resisting the urge to fiddle with her earrings and the pervasive ache echoing from them. “Just—you know. Long day, lots of—lots of stuff.”
Haru’s face darkened. “Yeah, no, I get you. Get some rest, Akane. I—I know Dad will be back sooner or later.”
“He will,” Akane said, nodding. Backing up against her door, she gave her sister a nervous smile. “Love you, goodnight!”
“Love you too—”
Before Haru could finish, Akane turned around, opened her door, and sped in, slamming it shut behind her.
She stood there for a few moments, leaning against the door and just breathing, before stepping away, glancing at the window.
It was dark.
Swallowing, Akane pulled out her phone.
10 PM.
It had been seven when she went into her parents’ room.
Haru was wrong—she’d been out for three hours.
Akane switched the phone to its camera, using it to peer at her ears. The lobes had turned an ugly shade of red, the hole surrounding each earring’s hook still splattered with dry blood. She could see, somewhat, the angry red of the still open wound, and felt a sharp stab of pain each time she moved.
“What the hell?” she muttered.
All of her doubt took a very different turn. Akane could admit she’d been hoping for some sign, something big, something that would make her Mom’s claims of magic and monsters undeniable, real.
It felt real, now. Uncomfortably, dangerously real. All at once, Akane realised what it meant that her mom had told the truth.
If magic was real—if magic could make you black out for hours after just picking up a pair of earrings—what else could it do?
What more didn’t she know?
And yet…
These earrings… they were her birthright.
The last gift from her Mom.
Akane knew her mother, knew her better than almost anyone else in the world. There was no way she would ever have given her daughter something dangerous.
They wouldn’t… they couldn’t hurt her.
Her Mom would never hurt her.
Akane stepped back from the dresser, and then almost buckled over as a sudden wave of exhaustion crashed down on her. It almost felt like she hadn’t slept in days, like she’d just ran a few marathons. She had to grab her bed to keep herself from falling over.
“Okay, okay, point taken,” she muttered.
Summoning the last of her strength, she quickly changed out of her clothes and into her pajamas, then collapsed into bed, falling into a deep sleep before she could even pull up the blanket.
And then, she dreamt.
There’s a moment in time, suspended between towers of steel and spires, where Akane waits.
Waits alone in the dark, her body burning in the cold. Her breath—if she’s breathing—short, raspy. Not hers.
She feels it before she sees it. Hears it before she feels it.
And yet.
Girl hunger sweet girl power ascending higher higher
She feels, sees, hears, knows herself nodding.
Pain pain gone yet more ever ascending higher higher
They hunger angry rage fury more more lower lower
You
Again, Akane burns. If she believed in it, she’d say her soul was trying to burst out of her skin, her body, to take flight.
Me.
You
Me.
There’s a pause, not just in her, but in everything, the world itself tipped on its edge.
Burn
Burn burn burn burn burn
Her world lights up in flame. The cold vanishes, the steel melts away, and her body is reduced to ashes and cinders. It hurts, it hurts it hurts it hurts and yet—
And yet—
She laughs.
And laughs.
Akane looks down, or up, or everywhere, and sees herself, sees a child slumbering, her breath a chilled mist in the ocean of flames.
She reaches down with her teeth, lips pressing against the soft, pink flesh of herself, and—
Tears right through.
Akane tears and rips and swallows, throwing back her bloodstained head into the sky and roaring in defiance, in pain and joy and fire.
Ascending
Growing
More
Akane bent back down, looking herself in the eyes,
Before tearing out her throat.