Saturday, May 22

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Roth Arena was packed. There had to be ten thousand people in the stadium, and they’d filled the entire basketball court with chairs for the graduating class of 2043. But even though I couldn’t stop sweating under the black and gold graduation robe I wore, I also couldn’t stop shivering.

And it wasn’t from the air conditioning.

My parents were out there, somewhere. So were Mrs. N and some of the Anti-Nap League, the professors—all four of them—and even, probably, Tele-Portal. I’d invited her, and I hoped she’d show up. We’d never been enemies. Not really. Just on opposite sides.

The nerves were getting to me. They’d been getting to me for weeks.

This would be my first public appearance as both Anika DuPont and Magical Girl Understudy, and even though Bianca and I had stayed up all night working through my speech, I had no idea how it’d be received. I slipped my hand into hers and squeezed. She squeezed back as the band played Pomp and Circumstance and more and more graduates filed in to fill the seats behind us.

“You’ve got this, Annie,” Bee whispered.

“I know. But what if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll get it some other way. We’ve been doing that for two years, so you should be pretty good at it.”

“Har har,” I muttered as the music stopped.

“Hello, and welcome to…” the TU president said. I tuned him out. My speech was right after his introduction, and I couldn’t focus. I could barely breathe. Even three months after the end of the Third Power War, I was still a celebrity. The keynote was mine, whether I wanted it or not.

I didn’t. But that didn’t matter.

“Our first speaker is a student in the first graduating class of the Superpower Studies associates program. She’s been more trouble for the university than she’s worth at times, but in the end, she’s proof that our program produces the finest heroes in the world, and that our students are more than capable of changing it. Anika DuPont, more famously known as Magical Girl Understudy,” the president said.

“That’s your cue,” Bianca whispered, poking me in the side.

I was already standing, walking automatically toward the podium and the lectern. The crowd went quiet as I tapped the mute button on the microphone and set Tails down in front of me. Then, I started my transformation sequence.

I hadn’t put the Costume on in public in…ever. On camera, sure, but not in front of ten thousand people. And I hadn’t put it on at all since February. But I had been working on its design, in secret, with Tails.

The skirt was mid-thigh this time, silvery, with pink and blue highlights and none of the frills and bows that’d been staples of my previous Costumes. The tights were still white, but more see-through, and the boots only went up my calves. They were flats, too—none of the high-heeled stereotypical Magical Girl look for me. I wanted to look like I could run in my Costume.

I included only a single pink bow on the dress across my chest; the rest of the outfit’s top was sleek and had silver cloth or dark lace paneling, with the same highlight tones. And instead of being festooned with comedy and tragedy buttons, I’d opted for a single one in the center of the bow. I’d spent a long time modeling the outfit and even longer convincing a cosplayer on campus to make it for me in a rush, but it was perfect. Even the tiara felt more mature—more adult—than either of the Costumes Rocko had designed for me, and the bow behind it in my hair didn’t feel like too much.

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The Costume felt sexy, powerful, and confident.

But it also felt like me. I’d foregone the ubiquitous domino mask; everyone could see my face, and even if my pupils went star-shaped as the music faded and the light show stopped, they could clearly see Anika DuPont under the tiara.

I turned the microphone back on. “Hello. It’s an incredible honor to give this speech. I even picked out a new outfit for it.”

I waited for the polite laughter to stop, heart in my throat. So far, so good. “But I didn’t make a new oath. Every Magical Girl has one, from Stella-Lunar’s Starlight and New Moon to Foamy Flash’s Cleaning up Crime. Right now, I’m the only one who doesn’t. And I didn’t make one for two reasons. First, as my girlfriend knows, I’m really, really bad at them.”

More polite laughter. I took a drink from the provided plastic bottle. It looked just like the ones Rocko had offered me at their studio in the Hot Zone. There was something poetic about their bottles lasting longer on Earth than they had, but I didn’t dwell on it. “The other reason is that the world’s changing, and I want my oath to reflect that. It’s been focused on justice, and standing against evil, and all of that stuff.

“But the future will be different, and I want my new oath to focus on hope, transformation, and how I can affect that future. And not just me. All of us.” I used [Quick-Time Change] to pop out of my Costume and back into my black-and-gold graduation robes.

“It’s easy to think only those with great power can change the world. We see it on TV, in the news, everywhere. Stella-Lunar and Mindstorm are negotiating with world leaders and the Ilnean Empire’s representative. Or the powers that be are hashing out the New Gotham Accords, figuring out the first steps of that future. You see that, and it’s all people with great powers. You think they’re not like you. But they are.

“I fought the Ilneats in space. I stood up to The Agent when no one else could. But I didn’t do it alone. Other people—people without great powers—stepped up and took responsibility to help me all the way from when I was a kid until today. My parents, teachers, and professors all invested in me with no expectation that they’d benefit directly. They helped me build my future and made me who I am today. Not the hero, but the person. And as we, the 2043 Tokyexico University graduating class, step into the world, we’re all going to have to step up to build ours.”

Was I bobbling the speech? Maybe. I couldn’t be sure. The only thing I could do was power on toward its end.

“I know we can all shape our futures and our world.” The corny line was coming up. I’d fought with Bee for so long about it. She thought it was dumb. I also thought it was dumb, but every commencement speech had some bad lines, right?

“Just remember, we don’t know what the future will hold, but I swear to meet it with hopeful eyes and pure heart. To do the best I can for everyone, and make that future a better, more just place. I hope you all do, too. Remember, you’re all heroes to someone, and you can all make the world better. Thank you.”

I headed back to my seat, leaving the podium behind. I’d come back for my degree later, but for now, I just wanted to sit down next to Bianca and let myself relax. Tails was tucked under my arm; she looked smugly out at the audience as they cheered and clapped.

When I finally sat down, a wave of relief crashed over me. Bee’s fingers wove between mine, and I squeezed her hand and tried to melt into my chair. The next speaker walked onto the podium, but I couldn’t pay attention to him. All I could think about was that future.

There were so many questions. Would the modified New Gotham Accords work for the supers who wanted to keep making shows? How would their contract with the Ilneats work, and would everyone get a fair deal there? And what about the rest of us? I knew I didn’t want to go back to the shows. I’d had enough of semi-scripted hero work, and Fursona and I were strong enough to not need the leagues anymore.

I could be a hero anywhere. But what would that look like? It wouldn’t be a career—not like acting in the Episodes had been. But it would be infinitely more fulfilling. So much more meaningful. This semester, we’d opened the door to a new future.

That future held so many questions, and so few of them had answers right now. But that was okay. Magical Girl Undergrad and Fursona could handle the future. So could Annie and Bianca.

So could we.