Being a magical girl was amazing – 10 years ago anyway. After the pay cuts and the layoffs, the PR scandals and the mounting pressure, I retired. Actually, no. “Retired” makes it sound like I left on good terms. What I did was the metaphorical equivalent of sucker-punching some jackass in the mouth, beating down all the other asshats that came to back him up, and showering them with my spit before turning tail the other way.

I lied. That was exactly what I did.

But I had a damn good reason! Anyone else would’ve dialed the cops, gotten an authority or something — but there wasn’t any time for that. The look on that kid’s face: it was dusted with scratches and blood, swelling purple across his cheek, the sole of a boot impressed so hard that it made a divot between his eyes. There were two standing over him. Cleaners, by the looks of it. Their black, red trimmed suits gave them away, not to mention the sick, ear-to-ear grins they had on their faces, the blood on their knuckles, and the thin stack of cash they fiddled with in their hands. Would you have let them get away with it?

Yeah. You probably would’ve.

Not like it matters now. The same morning I was out doing photo-ops and taking out stray Eclipshura was the same morning I got fired. It happened even before I got lunch at Strewby’s. Turns out those Cleaners were some of our guys, and I’d been – and I quote – “disrupting company activity and interfering with operative procedure.” They had no problem threatening me out of my benefits, then pressuring me out of a job; but I should’ve expected as much. I wasn’t an important magical girl anyway.

A breath, then an exhale. A puff of smoke escaped from my lips into the air of my apartment, and I let it dance between stagnant fan blades, drifting towards the ceiling. I sunk deeper into my beer-stained couch, carelessly lifting a finger; A flash of pink, and immediately the smoke coagulated, forming a gray cyclone that whirled and spun in the air. As I made more absentminded motions with my finger, causing the smoke to move around in all manners of ways, I grabbed one of the beers I’d opened earlier from my coffee table and let it gush down into my throat. It’d gone warm. I left it out for too long.

With a hoarse grunt, I tossed it aside. The smoke from earlier dispersed, shapeless. I inhaled again. Fuck — this time, it tasted like shit, filter and ash.

“Ack–” I coughed the cig out. It landed in the middle of my lap. The butt-end still smoldered, coiled in wisps of gray. Grumbling, I made another gesture: In one moment, the tip of my cigarette glowed a bright pink. In another, it vanished, along with the ember-spark’s glow. I flicked it off the couch, hitting an empty can on the floor, before joining countless identical used cigarettes. Another one exhausted. Another piece of trash.

“—And today, we’re joined by Lumina Starlight of Ardecoure, currently leading the MaShou rankings for the past two weeks!” My TV blared. The hell? I didn’t even realize I’d left it on. And of all the things, an interview? If it weren’t Lumina Starlight, then I’dve switched off in a heartbeat. “Basking in the aura of a bona fide magical girl… folks, I’ll tell you, it doesn’t get more exhilarating than this!” The host said. It was Cardnell. He wore a simple blazer over a white shirt with matching gray slacks, the ‘prim-and-professional’ image broken by a roughened pair of sneakers — and a huge ace he wore over his head, hiding his face.

Lumina laughed. It was that same crowd-pleasing laugh that she always used back in the office. “Cardnell, you flatter me. A little bit more and I might end up falling in love!”

“Oh? How scandalous!” He leaned in just a bit closer, almost teasingly. “I mean, I’d be more than happy if you did, though.”

“Of course you would,” Lumina said. “But my heart’s already been captured. You were too late to the punch!”

“Captured! Folks, friends, did you hear that? Miss — or should I say, Missus — Starlight’s love’s already been seized!” He sighed with an overexaggerated movement, slouching, head low, for a moment in his seat. I had to hand it to the guy; he definitely had a flair for the dramatic. “May I at least be the best man?”

Lumina gently slapped his hand, pouting. Cardnell immediately perked back up. “It’s not like that at all! When I say my heart’s been captured, well…” She shifted in her seat before turning directly towards the camera, giving one of her grade-S smiles, complete with a wink. “It’s been captured by you all! Your love keeps me going in my work to protect this city. As long as there’s even one of you left to cheer me on, my I’ll never falter!”

A wave of applause and cheers erupted from the audience. I couldn’t help but snort. Love? Cheers? What a joke — top magical girls got the best deals and insurance, the best jobs, the best cash. It was hard not to roll my eyes.

Cardnell was the last person to stop clapping. “Bravo!” He chimed, making sure to really roll that R. “I feel bad for our viewers at home — TV playback’ll never do those words justice!” Cardnell said. “I suppose that’s how you’ve stayed blazing past other girls, haven’t you? They’d certainly do well to adopt an attitude like that!”

“Ah, Cardnell, I must disagree,” Lumina said. Her voice was airy, like the faint smell of citrus on a summer breeze. Even I found myself hooked on the sound, if only for a second. “Everyone’s working hard against the Eclipshura. We all want to protect humanity, after all! It’s a bit unfair to put down other magical girls like that.”

“Most definitely! But on that note—“ Cardnell clapped twice. Suddenly, the stage they sat on went dark, except for a single spotlight illuminating Cardnell from the waist up. He held his arms out like a circus ringmaster about to display a new act. “Do I have the story for you! I’ve been getting tips that some magical girls — not specifically from Ardecoure, of course — deliberately leave some Eclipshura alive after their subjugations. Alive! Can you believe that?!”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

The spotlight went to Lumina, whose lip curled in surprise. “I… cannot believe that! Who would—“

“I’ll tell you who. Or rather, I’ll show you!” Cardnell snapped his fingers, and a large screen suddenly lit up behind them, almost spanning across the entire stage. A video began playing: A subjugation of a beast-class Eclipshura. My eyes narrowed to a near-squint; for an entertainer, let alone a talk host, to play this live was career suicide. What the hell was that ace-headed idiot thinking?

It looked to be taken from a civilian smartphone, judging by the camera quality. Most of the video footage was centered on a burning road, focused downwards at the asphalt. The cameraman was clearly impaired – the muffled scraping of his leg dragging behind him, clumsily shuffling against scraps of car debris, along with his unceasing grunts of pain made it obvious. Overhead, a roar; one that needled into the skin and chilled blood. It was met with a warbling, mechanical whine and a sudden, deafening blast. Between the sounds of battle and the panic of others caught in the crossfire, I could barely hear his cursing and raspy groans.

The cameraman collapsed to the ground, his breaths heavy. He turned over to his back with his phone, and I could see the smoky sky before him. The footage was shakier than it’d ever been before. It would’ve been hard for anyone else to make out the scene, but I could see it clear as day.

Eclipshura took many forms – this one was a beast-type. I never really liked the idea of calling them “Beast-type,” since… they never really looked like beasts. Not of the Earth, anyway. Their forms were shrouded in something like a black mist, but less foggy, and seemed to ripple and pulse with each movement they made. From the footage, I could barely make out three pairs of claw-like hands extending from an open cavity in a vaguely reptilian body. The head was covered in darkened pustules that bubbled and burst with each passing second, and looked like a horse’s; if you split it right down the middle with an ax. It had a tail that looked like a spring, and as it fell to the ground, it coiled around its body and – in a fraction of a second – launched itself upwards with unimaginable speed. The sheer power of it almost knocked the phone out of the cameraman’s hand again.

It barreled towards something in the sky. From this view, it looked like a dot. But whoever it was, it deflected the blow with a deep clang; like a titanium hammer crashing upon a pillar of steel. The monster was launched back into the ground, slamming into the side of a building, the mist around it sputtering out as it lay in a crater of rubble. A bus-sized pillar of light shone from where the figure in the sky stood, solidifying, and taking the form of an ornate, illuminating spear. I couldn’t hear it, but I’d never forget the thrumming from the spearhead for as long as I’d live. That was Vanie’s power.

She summoned several more until a quartet had formed around her like seraph wings. One of them flashed for a second, like an exploding sun, and launched towards the Eclipshura. But just when it was about to land, it dissipated in dispersing sprinkles of light. The others followed suit. And Vanie? She disappeared.

The phone eventually dropped to the floor. I couldn’t see anything. But I could hear. I could hear the sound of the Eclipshura shifting from its spot in the building, tumbling over onto the sidewalk. The sound of it struggling back to a stand, letting out a final roar of defiance from its twin cleaved mouths – and another sonic boom as it launched away. As it escaped.

And then silence.

Cardnell snapped again, and the video screen disappeared. The lights eventually came back to the stage, followed by the music, and a surge of whispers from the crowd. I had a few questions myself.

Vanie was one hell of a magical girl. She had a cold callousness that betrayed her delicate beauty, and spoke as little as possible. That never won her any fans, but the few that followed her gave her the nickname “Spartan.” If you ask me, it fit her perfectly. She was laconic, and oozed discipline. Even the way she stood just exuded authority. She’d never been one to let us half-ass our training, much less half-ass anything herself. So for her to disappear without finishing the job? What happened?

“Now, granted, it’s hard to see most of what happened there,” said Cardnell. “But you can clearly see the part where her weapons just… disappeared! And you can clearly tell by the end of it that the Eclipshura escaped! Lumina, what d’you have to say about that?”

“I–” Lumina spoke as if snapped from a daze. Disbelief was still knit across her face, in her furrowed brows and half-parted lip. “I don’t–” She shook her head, looking away from the camera. Her expression – or at least, what could be made from this angle – turned grave. She whispered something under her breath.

“What was that?”

“It’s nothing.” It sounded like she regained some of her vigor, but her voice was still slightly strained.

“That was clearly a magical girl, was it not? Do you recognize her?”

“Um… From that distance, it’s hard to tell.” She fiddled with the frills of her skirt. “The camera quality’s poor, so we can’t know for sure if it is. As far as I know, it’s probably a Rovi.”

Cardnell moved to the edge of his seat, leaning over slightly. “A Rovi, you say?”

“Yes,” Lumina responded. She sounded more resolute now. “With the Eclipshura threat, we haven’t had time to apprehend those acting outside of an agency. And I don’t know if it’ll help, but for what it’s worth – I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to take this back to Ardecoure. We can’t let an incident like this happen again.”

“I see.” Cardnell rumbled. He glanced over at his watch. “Oh! Well, how convenient – looks like we’re out of time for now.” Music blared in the background as Cardnell stood from his seat and the spotlights focused on him. “That’s it for today’s segment of Cardnell’s Crazy Canards! Be sure to tune in next week, where we have a leading Eclipshura specialist to regale us on–”

I shut the TV off. Really… What was that? Like hell that was a Rovi. No Rovi was that strong – except for me, maybe. But even I wouldn’t dare use my powers now. Working as part of an agency legally allowed you to; Rovi, who were technically just civilians, were barred by law from doing so. Even if that weren’t Vanie, anyone with power like that’d be easily recognizable. It wouldn’t be hard for the press to track them down. And with the press came the law. Yeah, no. No way, no way in hell, was that a Rovi.

Without realizing it, I found my hand straying towards another pack of cigarettes. Shaking. My hand was shaking. I clenched my teeth. Why? Whatever happened out there didn’t concern me, I already quit! I wasn’t a magical girl anymore!

Holy fucking shit, I needed another smoke. I could already feel the edge creeping up on me. But even with my hand snug into the box, I didn’t grasp onto any. Snatching the box with my hand, I turned it upside down, shaking it vigorously: up, down, up again, down again, as if my arm turned into a jackhammer. Nothing came out.

Great.