Chapter Text
“No.”
Chika’s shoulders slumped. You patted her on the back in an effort to comfort her, but to no avail.
“But… but why?”
The student council president, Dia Kurosawa, put her hand to her forehead. Her frustration was evident. What will it take to get it through this dense girl’s head?
“Do you have any idea how much work it takes to become a school idol? This isn’t some dumb activity that you can just start on the fly. A school idol club requires commitment,” she used her eyes to scan Chika’s slightly pudgy frame, “among other things.”
Chika was not ignorant of the president’s wandering eyes. She covered herself with her arms with mock shock. She was about to open her mouth to utter a witty retort, but felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Chika, just drop it,” You said with a sympathetic smile.
Chika looked back at her best friend, ready to refuse, but closed her mouth after seeing the look in You’s eyes. Instead, Chika turned around, facing the president. To Dia’s surprise, she took a deep bow.
“Sorry about wasting your time, Miss President. I… swear that I’ll never bring it up again.” And with that, the duo left.
“Don’t worry, Chika. We’ll find a way, even if it isn’t at school…” Dia heard You’s voice say as the sound of the two second years walking down the hallway faded away.
Dia’s sighed. It had been a rough day, and it never made her feel good to reject a club application, especially when the applicants were so bright-eyed and full of hope.
A voice echoed in the room, one that only Dia could hear. “Are you sure you made the best choice, Master?”
Dia rubbed her temples. “They don’t know my reasons, and they may hate me, but after what happened at Otonokizaka…” She straightened her back, yelling resolutely, “I will never allow a school idol club to form here!”
The voice giggled.
“What’s so funny?” Dia spat, annoyed at the voice for having taken the wind out of her sails.
“Nothing in particular. It’s just that,” the voice sighed, as if a save of nostalgia had just washed over it, “at this very moment, I’m getting the strangest sense of déjà vu.”
You had seen Chika in a depressed state many times before. Usually, Chika would come out of her slump relatively quickly, ready to move on to her next big half-baked plan. If Chika stayed bummed out for an unusually long time, it was usually curable with a healthy dose of mikan oranges.
This time, however, was different. Chika was not depressed; she was absolutely devastated.
“C’mon Chika,” You begged in vain, waving a mikan around the bundle of blankets on Chika’s bed, hoping that the wafted scent of the fruit would coax her out, “you can’t stay in there forever.”
“I want to stay in here and die!” came the muffled reply.
You sighed. As much as she admired her best friend’s stubbornness, it really got on her nerves sometimes.
No, You reassured herself, it’s not Chika’s fault. She could never annoy me. No, this is the student council president’s fault. You felt her hands clench into fists involuntarily. That damned Dia Kurosawa…! I’ll… I’ll hurt her! I’ll kidnap her and lock her away, where she’ll never hurt my precious Chika again! Then I’ll hurt her! First, I’ll pull out her nails, then her teeth, then her hair. And then…!
You pinched herself, horrified by her thoughts. What is happening to me? Where are these thoughts coming from?
You Watanabe was generally considered a very sweet, happy-go-lucky girl. She liked swimming, uniforms, and her best friend Chika. Some people may say that she liked Chika a bit too much. But You ignored these claims. After all, was it so wrong for her to care about a friend that had never failed to be by her side?
But recently, that had changed. A voice whispered in her head, one that was not her own.
"She’s yours, You Watanabe. She’s yours and you must protect her with all of your being. Keep her close and eliminate all those who try to get closer, because she is yours."
Ruby Kurosawa was, to say the least, worried about her big sister.
“Bad day at school today, Sis?” she asked, concern evident on her face.
Dia sighed, the long exhale confirming Ruby’s suspicions. “Had to turn down another club application,” she mumbled, “one for a school idol club.”
“Oh…” Ruby understood immediately. Both her sister and she were huge fans of school idols. Watching girls around their age reach out for their dreams and try to become something at such a young age was so inspiring to the both of them. And yet, after that incident…
“Ruby knows why you did it, Sis. Don’t worry, you didn’t make a mistake. You were just trying to protect them.”
Dia smiled slightly, patting Ruby on the head. It seemed that Ruby’s words had put the normally cold and uptight student council president at ease.
“I know, it’s just…” Dia trailed off, rubbing her right wrist uncomfortably: a habit that Ruby had begun to notice recently in her sister. A nervous tick, perhaps? Or rather, could it be an unconscious show of guilt?
Ruby climbed into Dia’s lap. “Ruby will help you bear the responsibility, Sis. Ruby may not be the Kurosawa heir, but Ruby will do all that Ruby can do to help.”
Dia wrapped her arms around Ruby, pulling her into a deep hug. She let her hand move away from her wrist, the place where the Kurosawa Magic Crest, the symbol of her sisterly betrayal, was etched into her skin and drawn onto her soul. “Please Ruby,” Dia mumbled into her little sister’s hair, “help me get through this.”
A rare moment of weakness for the proud student council president. Ruby smiled, tracing the blood-red Command Spells on Dia’s right hand. “Ruby will do her Rubesty.”
Despite her butler’s pleading, Mari Ohara boarded the helicopter.
“Please, Young Miss,” the butler begged, “don’t go! It is far too dangerous!”
Mari took another step into the helicopter.
“Please!”
Mari turned around, an impish grin on her face. She raised her right hand and turned it so that its backside was facing towards the butler, showing off the Command Spells that adorned her skin.
“The Holy Grail is calling me and I cannot refuse!” she exclaimed, nothing but excitement in her voice.
“But, Young Miss…!”
“Remember that the Oharas are one of the Three Founding Families,” Mari cut him off. “I cannot refuse the call of the Grail even if I wanted to.”
“But…!”
“Plus,” Mari looked down, now a hint of melancholy in her voice, “it has been far too long since I have been in Uchiura.”
Her butler sighed. “I understand, Young Miss. I completely accept that you want to go back to your old town, see your old friends. It is completely understandable.”
Mari nodded. “Exactly! I’m glad that you see-”
“But!” her butler exclaimed, interrupting her, “can you not plan a visit at any other time?! The Holy Grail War is a matter of life or death, not an excuse to go visit old friends!”
“You can’t stop me from going.”
“No, I cannot,” her butler conceded, “but I can convince you to stop yourself before you make a foolish decision.”
Mari tapped the helicopter pilot on the shoulder, signaling that she was ready. He nodded.
“I’ll consider your words.”
The pink helicopter’s doors began to slide shut.
“Please, Young Miss! Don’t go!” her butler made one last desperate attempt at persuasion.
The whirring of the blades started whipping up the air around them. The helicopter began rising off of the ground, and Mari decided to wave down at her butler through the side window. “Shiny!”
She watched as her butler fell to his knees, despairing that he could not stop her. She paid him no mind; one simple butler had no right to speak to the heir of the Ohara clan.
Kanan, Dia: I hope you’re ready. I’m coming home.
“I’m dying, Kanan.”
Kanan Matsuura gripped her grandfather’s hand tightly. The last few months had been hard on the old man. Illness had consumed his entire being, leaving him feeble and bedridden. He had hardly been able to do anything himself. Kanan had taken it upon herself to take care of the atelier in his stead. The Matsuura family atelier was disguised as a diving shop on the offshore island Awashima, so she had been unable to attend school and take care of it at the same time. Not that she needed a high school education; learning to become a proper magus was a far more rewarding use of her time.
The old man coughed, a terrible sound, as if something was trying to claw its way out of his throat. “Kanan.”
“Yes, Grandfather?”
“The Matsuura dream,” he coughed again, “it’s up to you now, my dear. I can’t do much more than this.”
Kanan let go of his hand. He placed it on her chest, shaking the entire time. Kanan closed her eyes, feeling the bond that her grandfather and her shared, one not only of blood, but of ideals as well. The bond of the Matsuura clan, tracing back over five hundred years.
“It is finished.”
Kanan glanced at the palm of her left hand. Sure enough, the Magic Crest imprinted there had expanded to a great size, reaching all the way across her palm to the tips of her fingers.
“It may not be as vast a pool of spells as the Crests of the other two Founding Families, considering that it had to skip a generation,” her grandfather said, voice now holding a deathly calmness to it, “but it is the greatest gift that I can leave to you, my dear.”
Kanan bowed her head solemnly. “Thank you, Grandfather.”
Her grandfather managed a chuckle. “I said that this was the greatest gift I could leave, not the last.”
Kanan looked up, faced now filled with confusion.
“Look on my desk. There is a brown package, an artifact that was recently excavated from a demolished apartment complex in Tokyo.” The old man smiled, placing his shaking hand on her right one.
Kanan’s eyes widened. “Grandfather… You don’t mean…!”
“Yes, my dear,” her grandfather confirmed, “it is a catalyst I specifically had prepared for you. With it, you should be able to summon the most powerful Idol Spirit.”
Kanan was speechless. When had Grandfather managed to make all of these preparations? Was it recently? Had he been sneaking around, behind her back, using up the last of his remaining energy to give her the best chance that he could at fulfilling the Matsuura dream? Kanan felt tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t cry, my dear. I don’t want the last thing I see to be your tearful face. Please, smile for me, one last time.”
Kanan nodded, wiping the tears away from her face. “Yes, Grandfather.” She smiled the best she could, ignoring the fact that tears continued to stream from her eyes. Reality was finally catching up with her. Her grandfather, the only true family she had ever had in her life, was going to die. Right then and there. In front of her eyes. And she was powerless to stop it.
The hand on top of hers went limp, falling away, lifeless. Immediately, there was a small flash of pain. Kanan looked down at the back of her right hand, confirming the presence of the Command Spells. She stood up, closing the old man’s eyes and locking the door behind her.
I swear to you, Grandfather, Kanan silently promised, eyes now dry, I swear that I will do for you what my father could not.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Yoshiko dear, dinner’s ready!”
No response. Nothing but silence from the closed bedroom door.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Yoshiko, did you hear me?”
Still nothing.
The woman sighed. Her daughter was being stubborn again. She couldn’t remember the last time Yoshiko had listened to her.
“If you don’t come out on the count of three, I’m coming in.”
Zero. Zilch. Not a peep.
“One, two…”
The door creaked open, just a slight opening, revealing a single pink eye.
“It’s Yohane, mortal. Refer to me as such.”
“Dinner’s ready.” Her mother said, nonchalantly. She had long since gotten used to dealing with Yoshiko’s chuunibyou delusions.
“Fallen angels such as I derive no pleasure from the bread of man.” A loud grumble. Yoshiko blushed. “Er, I’ll be down in a moment, Mom.”
Her mother nodded. Looking into Yoshiko’s darkened room, she noticed the only source of the light: the computer monitor. A pentagram was displayed on the screen.
“Is she up to her occult stuff again?” Yoshiko’s father asked as his wife descended the stairs.
“Indeed. I wonder what has gotten her so obsessed with the occult recently. She used to be so afraid of the stuff…”
Yoshiko Tsushima closed her bedroom door and sighed.
Did Mom see what I was doing? Yoshiko looked at the computer monitor. Well, even if she did, there’s no way that she knows the true extent of it…
Yoshiko walked over to her bed, flipping over a pillow to reveal an old, leather-bound book. A single word was scrawled across the front: Tsushima.
Yoshiko had found the mysterious book when her mother forced her to clean the attic a little over two years again. Up until that moment, the occult and mysticism was a great fear of hers. She had always hated the stories of demons and blood rituals that her father told her, but she always listened intently.
“ These stories are the last remaining heirloom of our family, Yoshiko,” he had said. “These are the stories that our family has passed down orally for generations.”
Why did her family’s heirloom have to be such scary stories? But Yoshiko always felt strangely drawn to them, despite her fear. There was something deeper, something more.
Then, she found the book. Upon first touching the cover, Yoshiko felt a chill run up her spine. This book, it’s evil!
She opened it to the first page.
And so began the self-study of one Yoshiko Tsushima, the first Tsushima magus in over three hundred years.
“Hanamaru!”
The brown-haired girl sweeping the temple grounds turned around at the sound of her best friend calling out to her.
“Ruby! What are you doing here, zura?” Hanamaru Kunikida responded. She then looked up, noticing the dark night sky. “Isn’t it a bit late?”
Despite the question, Hanamaru was not in any way bothered by the visit from Ruby. It was always a pleasant surprise to get to talk with Ruby outside of school, especially since Hanamaru did not have access to a phone or the Internet.
“Hanamaru, your mother is the overseer for the upcoming Holy Grail War, right?”
Hanamaru simply nodded in response.
“Then,” Ruby asked, “what does she say about the plan?”
Hanamaru sighed. “She already did not like us being friends, zura. She was afraid of the conflict of interest that could occur if the daughter of the overseer and a magus were found out to be in close relations.”
“So, what you’re saying is,” Ruby said, somewhat deflated, “that you’re too scared to talk to her about it?”
Hanamaru nodded.
“Then, have you told her about those?”
Ruby pointed at her bandaged right hand. It was bound tightly, each finger expertly covered by white linen so as to still allow full mobility while ensuring that not even a bit of skin was showing.
“M-Maru can’t, zura. Maru can’t even imagine what she would do…”
“You can’t hide it from her forever. Does she even believe the story?”
“Maru think she’s suspects us,” Hanamaru whispered, looking around to make sure her mother was not nearby eavesdropping, “but she accepts it for now. That’s another reason she doesn’t want us to be friends anymore, Ruby. She thinks your family is cursed, zura.”
Ruby giggled. “I think your family is the cursed one her, having one of its daughters qualify for the Holy Grail War.”
Hanamaru pouted. “That’s mean, Ruby. You know that everything the Holy Grail War stands for is the bane of Maru’s family, zura.”
“And yet,” Ruby replied, “you are plotting to betray your family for me.”
Hanamaru blushed. “Well, when you put it that way, zura…”
Ruby giggled again, patting Hanamaru’s bandaged hand lovingly. “You’re mom is going to figure out that you’ve got Command Spells eventually. Even if she doesn’t, when you summon your Servant…”
“But what should Maru do? No, what can Maru do?” Hanamaru began tearing up.
“Come live with Dia and me, at least until the War is over.” Ruby put a finger to Hanamaru’s lips before she could protest. “I know your mom doesn’t like us, and it would look suspicious to the other magi, but do you really have a choice? The temple is neutral grounds; you can’t summon a Servant here without invoking the full wrath of the Church.”
“But… can Maru really go and live with you, zura? Would you like Hanamaru around?”
Ruby nodded. “Nothing would make me happier. Your mom can’t enter our atelier by Church law. Even if she ignored that, our Bounded Field is sure to keep her out. You’ll be safe. You’ll be hidden. You’ll be…” Now Ruby was blushing as well, “...with me.
"...So, will you come?”
Hanamaru jumped onto the other girl, the broom clattering to the floor, forgotten. Tears of joy streamed down her face.
“Yes!”
Chika Takami threw off the blankets that had been covering her. The room was completely dark, only lit by the light of the moon.
How long have I been out?
Chika tried to recall the last thing she remembered. I asked the student council president for permission to start a school idol club. She refused, and then I came home with You. Chika looked around, finding no sign of her ash-haired best friend. She must’ve gone home…
Chika looked for the faint red glow of her digital clock. 11:57 PM… I guess I’ll head back to bed…
Groggily, she headed towards the nearest bathroom to get ready for bed. Upon switching on the light, she found a mikan orange with a note under it next to her toothbrush.
Call me when you wake up. -You
Chika headed straight back to her room and grabbed her phone out of her school bag.
“You’re awake?” You said when she picked up, still sounding half-asleep.
“Sorry, did I wake you up?” Chika asked sheepishly.
“No, it’s fine. I asked you to call me, after all. Are you okay now?”
Chika nodded.
“...You still there, Chika?”
“Oh, right. Yeah, I’m fine.” Chika had momentarily forgotten that phone calls did not capture body language. It was still rare for her to talk with You over the phone, considering how inseparable they were.
“Look, if you really want to start a school idol club,” You yawned loudly, “then I’m sure that we just need to prove that we are actually committed to the idea. If we do that, then there’s no way Miss President can refuse us again.”
There is. After all, I know why she refused us in the first place.
“Forget it, You. I give up on the club.”
A strange silence followed. When You spoke again, her voice was filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay, Chika? It isn’t like you to give up so easily, especially about something you were so gung-ho about earlier.”
“Yes, I’m absolutely, positively sure about this. There’s no reason to go pursue it further. After all… it’s just a stupid dream.” Chika trailed off, mumbling the last part quietly.
“It’s not stupid!” You yelled.
Chika was shocked. Why had You raised her voice? She wasn’t as invested in the idea as Chika was…
“I mean,” You said, voice lower, seemingly calmed down, “it’s your dream, Chika. You shouldn’t call it stupid.”
Oh, You, but if only you knew. It is stupid. It’s selfish, it’s stupid, and most of all, dangerous.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, You. Sorry for waking you up. Good night,” Chika mumbled.
“Hey, wait! I still wanted to-!” Chika hung up, ignoring You’s frantic protests.
Chika flopped down onto her bed. She wasn’t in the mood to brush her teeth or take a bath. She just wanted to…
How did Kanan put it? Conceptualize, visualize, realize?
Chika raised her arm, spreading out her hand, letting the light on the ceiling filter through her fingers. She felt the slightly warm glow of the electric lamp wash over her palm.
Judging the concept of idolization. Hypothesizing the basic choreography. Duplicating the composition’s tempo and mood. Imitating the skill of its execution. Sympathizing with the experience of its performers. Reproducing the numerous practices. Excelling every Live Show performance.
“Shine on,” Chika whispered.
Riko Sakurauchi stood outside of her new house, praying that her new life in Uchiura would be the calm, peaceful, normal life she had always dreamed of.
“I hope that everything goes well here…”