Chapter Text
From her perch atop Godzilla’s sculpture, Kita watched as Shinjuku plunged into darkness. No stars came forth in the sky, as the streetlights bleed their glow up into the celestial dome, obscuring the firmament. The streets of Kabukicho came alive, tinted by the visual cacophony of neon lights and LED screens below. Sitting high above, the only sounds that reached her were the unsung, mournful melodies of ambulances and police cars, rising above the muffled sounds of the crowds roaming the streets in search of a night of fun.
In life, her relationship with the district had been quite limited. Kabukicho had been a place for concerts in the rock cathedral of Shinjuku FOLT, where sweaty crowds banged their heads, destroying their throats along to the music. A quick dinner before running to the station along with her bandmates to catch that last train home. High school Kita had walked these streets with a guitar case slung over the shoulder, oblivious to their dark side: the gloomy izakayas, the glamorous host and hostess clubs, and the dimly lit alleyways of love hotels.
But as a cupid, the red-light district was the ideal hunting ground. Nothing beats a town full of aching hearts searching for some love.
Kita stared at the revolver in her hand, clutching it tightly as she tried to forget the sore memories of her past life. Almost a year had passed since she had been resurrected as a Cupid. The deal had been simple enough: work as a supernatural matchmaker, complete missions to accumulate enough karma, and earn a second chance at life courtesy of the Goddess of Love. The catch? You’d never return to your previous life. All your memories would be wiped out, and you’d be reincarnated in a new body at the same age you were before you died.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kita caught her reflection in the skyscraper’s glass panels. White hair, red eyes, and baby blue and eggshell colored military gear — not a look she had ever thought of rocking out. The breeze of an unusual warm night of April caressed her wings, ruffling her white feathers.
The monster’s sculpture rumbled, roaring into the night as its eyes glowed and smoke billowed from its mouth. Godzilla’s head was one of her favorite spots to hang out after another successful mission. Kita eyed again her magical love weapon, pulling a maintenance kit from her pocket. It was time for giving her trusty revolver some needed after care.
Kita popped the revolver cylinder open, checking that all six of its heart-shaped chambers were empty. She wasn’t one to waste love bullets during a mission, prioritizing efficiency over spectacle.
A familiar flapping of wings echoed over her head. “Great job today!”
Kita looked up, meeting her superior’s gaze. “Thanks, you too, Operator-senpai.”
“You know those weapons don’t need maintenance, right?” Operator remarked, landing next to Kita.
“Yeah, I know,” Kita admitted, taking out a pull-through cord from her kit. “It’s just a way to distract myself.”
Under her superior’s watch, Kita tugged the cord through the gun’s barrel, swiping away the magical gunpowder residue.
“Whatever rocks your boat, I guess.” Operator shrugged. “Anyways, you did a mighty fine job out there today, Kita-san.”
“Just doing my job.” With a brush, Kita scraped the hardened carbon that had accumulated on the cylinder’s surface, making sure no residue remained.
For most of her previous life, Kita had lived through her days without much care; it wasn’t until she had joined Kessoku Band that the former vocalist found some semblance of a purpose in life. Past memories flooded in, clawing with sorrow at Kita’s heart.
The only way to cope was to focus on her Cupid job.
“You’re too humble,” Operator continued, finally sitting down. Despite knowing them for almost a year, Kita had never learned her senpai’s name. “It’s going to be difficult to find a replacement for you. Nobody handles solo missions quite like you.”
It was true that, by Cupid’s standards, Kita was an anomaly. While most worked in groups, competing against each other on easy missions, Kita focused on working alone, taking on the highest risk - highest reward jobs. The sooner she reincarnated, the sooner she’d leave the sadness of her past behind.
It wasn’t easy to accept that all her memories would be lost to time, but it was better than the alternative.
“Somebody will come along. They always d- Wait! Replacement?” Kita sputtered, almost dropping the revolver.
“Yeah, word has come from up high,” Operator explained, amused by Kita’s surprise. “One more mission and you’ll have enough karma to finally reincarnate.”
“Enough karma, huh?” Kita asked with a slight smile. She tried to calm her racing heart by focusing again on the weapon, wiping each chamber of the cylinder with a soft cloth.
It was a pleasant surprise. Kita hadn’t expected to meet her quota so soon — after all, most cupids took two to three years to complete enough missions to attain reincarnation. Perhaps her efforts were finally paying off.
“Quite so! In fact, that’s why I’m here,” Operator said, gesturing with their hand and materializing a cardboard folder out of thin air. “Your most important mission yet. I trust that you’ll rise to the challenge,” they added before handing it to her.
Kita took one last look down the gun’s barrel. The multicolored lights of Kabukicho were reflected off its gleaming surface. With a swift motion, she shut the cylinder against the night sky, making sure that the mechanism worked as intended.
She turned towards Operator, who nudged again the manila folder towards her. “Let me see.”
Opening the folder, Kita felt a knot in her stomach. Her eyes widened, and she gasped, speechless. She recognized the target all too well. Kita read the name again and again, hoping that, by some strange miracle, she was mistaken.
But no, the name — one she had dreaded since her reincarnation — remained the same.
Gotoh Hitori.
As expected on Christmas Eve, the last train of the night was packed. Beyond the carriage windows, the city lights streaked through the winter night as snowflakes timidly descended over the streets. Pressed against the carriage’s doors, Kita did her best to shield her bandmate from the crowd.
Despite Kita’s initial grievances, the concert had been a success. Playing outside of the Starry club was always a gamble, but this time it paid off. A joint concert with SIDEROS and Sick Hack was always a good way to create synergies between the bands and gain new fans.
“Are you sure Kuruyo-san won’t mind?” Hitori asked worriedly, nestled in a small space Kita had created for them against the door. Even though a year had passed, the poor girl was still dealing with the trauma of meeting Kita’s mom for the first time. “I can always call Dad to come pick me up.”
Playing so late meant that Hitori had no way of getting back to Kanawaga in time. Normally, Nijika wouldn’t have minded hosting Hitori until the first train of the morning, but that night was Seika’s birthday, which meant they would be celebrating with Kikuri and the others well into the morning. Not an ideal situation for the lead guitarist of Kessoku Band, which gave Kita the opportunity to invite the girl to her house.
“Don’t be silly, Hitori-chan.” The redhead tried to reassure Hitori, looking intently into her deep blue eyes. “Mom said there wouldn’t be a problem. Besides it’s been a while since we had a sleepover.”
Hitori’s cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink as she smiled. “Thank you, Kita-chan.”
That smile.
The same one Kita had fallen in love with.
She had to admit that inviting Hitori over was a last-ditch effort to finally ask her out. There was nothing in this world Kita wanted more than to make Hitori her girlfriend for good. But for that to happen, the vocalist would have to muster up the courage to open her heart, face her feelings, and confess them to the guitarist.
She didn’t understand why it was too difficult for her, why she always backed out at the last minute. Kita was pretty sure that Hitori loved her, but there was always that stupid idea of maintaining the status quo, of not disturbing the delicate equilibrium of their relationship and those around them.
“The next stop is Shimokitazawa. Please transfer here for the Inokashira Line,” the train speakers announced.
The carriage lurched, pushing the passengers together and closing the distance between Kessoku Band’s guitarists. Both girls averted their gazes at the sudden closeness; Kita did her best to keep her heart under control.
On concert nights like this, Kita remembered why she had fallen for her bandmate. Yes, Hitori was a strange, withdrawn, and frankly — sometimes — off-putting girl. But, under the spotlights, the pink-haired girl was a completely different beast. Hitori transformed into a ragging monster whose guitar demanded your complete attention and devotion.
The train’s public address system came back on. “This is Shimokitazawa. Shimokitazawa. This train is a local train bound for Kyodo. The doors will open the right side.”
To no one’s surprise, the station’s platform was also packed. Even on holidays the neighborhood was a hot spot; in fact, Kita saw several couples who seemed to be on their way home after a typical Christmas date.
“Please watch your step when exiting the train.” The conductor’s garbled voice echoed throughout the intercom as they exited the train.
Kita followed Hitori through the crowd, trying to keep up as the guitarist made her way along the edge of the platform. The vocalist noticed Hitori’s back. instead of her usual hunched posture, the guitarist carried herself a bit taller. The guitar bag almost seemed like a pillar sustaining the heavens above. Had it always looked so dependable?
Yes, Hitori was the kindest soul Kita had ever met. Somehow she had managed to bring Kita back into the band, teach a good for nothing like her to play guitar, and turn her into a prospective rock-star. What did it matter that Hitori wasn’t like the other girls? Kita had fallen in love with her all the same. Even after learning about her past, her opinion hadn’t changed. Hitori was Hitori, and that was all that mattered.
For the past three years, Hitori had been there for Kita through thick and thin, rain or shine. Along with Sattsu, Hitori had become her closest confidant, the one person she knew she could always count on. It was even thanks to her that Kita had managed to reconcile with her mother after Hitori was the one who convinced her to go to university.
The loudspeakers above the crowd blared a chime. “Attention, please. An express train is approaching. This train will not stop at this station. For your safety, please stand behind the yellow line on the platform.”
University.
The word echoed in Kita’s head.
Winter had finally arrived, and before long, march would be looming in the horizon — Kita’s days as a high schooler were numbered. Soon, all those afternoons spent with Hitori, learning to play guitar in the small space they shared under the stairs, would come to an end. That couldn’t be. There had to be a way to ensure that Hitori would always remain by her side.
Kita steeled her heart. She reached out to the unsuspecting Hitori, ready to put an end to all this unhealthy longing.
“Hey, watch out!”
Someone jostled through the crowd, suddenly bumping into Hitori. Kita looked in horror as Hitori lost her balance. Time slowed to crawl as the girl she loved pitched forward, falling towards the tracks.
“Hitori!” Kita shrieked, her voice breaking.
Instinct took over, Kita reached out, gripping the strap of Hitori’s guitar bag. Her fingers clutched the at the fabric desperately, frantically trying to avert the impeding disaster. With a strength never before seen in her, Kita pulled her friend towards the platform.
Sadly, physics spared no thought for them. Every action met its equal and opposite reaction. Hitori’s momentum pulled back on Kita with terrifying force.
Cause and effect.
Kita felt her feet lose contact with the ground as her body tumbled over the edge. Falling down, she spared one last look up at the platform. She saw Hitori staring down at her in abject horror.
The high-beams of the upcoming express train blinded her. A deafening horn blared, herald of things to come.
At least it would be quick.
At least Hitori was safe.
In her final moment, Kita forced a smile. Let her silently comfort Hitori one last time before the eternal darkness swallows her.
As the world faded to white, the last thing Kita heard was the raw, shattered scream of Hitori calling out her name.
A wave of revulsion washed over Kita, churning her stomach as she snapped back to the present. Her body fought the urge to vomit — as a Cupid, nausea was a useless reflex offering no relief. Still, reliving your final moments was not an experience for those with a weak constitution.
Kita’s hand trembled as she tried to grip the file. She felt a tightness in her chest that cut off her breath and made her head spin. The lights of Kabukicho around her became a dizzy blur of color as a sharp, deafening buzz echoed in her ears, drowning out the cacophony of the red-light district.
The only thing her eyes could focus on was the name of the woman she had once loved.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Kita shuddered, regaining control of her dry mouth. “You can’t be serious! Hitori?!”
The force with which Kita spat out her words was such that the flock of crows scattered across the terrace startled, cawing in protest. The murder took flight, dispersing into the washed-out night sky of Shinjuku.
“I’m afraid not, Kita-san,” Operator lamented, looking at the ravens as they vanished into the distance.
“Her? Out of all the millions of people who live in this city, she is the one I’ve been assigned?” Kita demanded, sweeping her arm across the metropolis skyline. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Four years had passed since Kita’s death, one since her resurrection as a Cupid, and for most of that time, Kessoku Band’s former vocalist had done her best to stay away from her old life. Being assigned Hitori’s mission felt like a punch to the gut.
“I understand how you feel, Kita-san. Trust me, I do.” Operator sighed. something in their eyes told Kita that they were all too familiar with the situation. Despite their soothing tone and sad smile, Operator’s words offered Kita no comfort
Kita remained silent, slowly trying to regain control of her emotions. Allowing Cupids to experience the crushing weight of panic and letting them cry while denying them of any real physical relief was ironic, to say the least.
Before long, Operator broke the silence. “High Command believes you’re the most suitable agent for this mission, and I agree.” For a moment, Kita held Operator’s gaze, feeling the weight of their words.
“It’s not fair, you know?” Kita cried, as a tear rolled down her cheek.
“No one said it was,” Operator pointed out, rising to their feet. “You’re not the first Cupid to be assigned a mission connected to their past.”
“Still, not fair,” Kita reiterated, clenching her fists.
“Well, as far as I know, you won’t be assigned any more missions until you complete this one.” Operator shrugged. “So it’s up to you. Either you go through with it and gain the opportunity to reincarnate, or you’re stuck in this limbo with the rest of us until Goddess knows when.”
“Those fuckers!” Kita cursed in frustration, biting her lips as she angrily tugged at her white hair. “Screw this, I’m out of here!”
Kita leaped from the monster’s head, using her wings to land gracefully on the glass railing overlooking the streets below. It was a shame Cupids weren’t built for long distance flights; returning to her base by train was a hassle.
“Kita-san!” Operator called from atop Godzilla’s sculpture. Kita glanced at them sideways.
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Operator continued, raising their voice over the city’s echoes, “but I’m sure that if you stick with the mission, you’ll understand why you were assigned to it.” Kita had a feeling that Operator knew more than they let on. “So try to trust me, okay?”
“Whatever…” Kita looked away, returning her gaze to the streets below. She leaned forward, letting herself topple over the edge.
Kita’s body plummeted through the air, enveloped in the dazzling colors of the red-light district. The wind roared as she fell. She opened her wings just in time to cushion her landing.
Kita stood up, looking around, invisible to the crowds that surrounded her. It was time to come home.