With one pink paw wrapped around the sacred piece of cloth, Uta tilted her head up to face the dark, stormy sky and prayed.

"They say that we perform for the gods," she started, her high voice broken and cracked in desperation and terror. "If that is so, please, gods, call upon the most heavenly of you, the Divine Playwrights themselves, to give us a happy ending."

She waited for a response. As one of the eight shrine maidens in the Realm of Wings, sometimes she was able to get an answer to her prayers. However, as the clouds shifted, she frowned, long and floppy ears twitching anxiously. The spell cast over her homeworld was doubtless blocking the gods' replies. Despite this, she continued, unsure of what else to do. "Please, at the least, let my fellow shrine maidens come quickly to my aid to protect the last Cure Costume…"

For a moment, the sky seemed to lighten up, the seething storm giving way to a bout of blue.

And then, it grew even darker. One cloud in particular seemed to swirl into four parts, each forming an image in front of Uta, who instinctively clutched the segment of red velveteen cloth tighter. Her voice barely trembled as she abandoned her prayer, her energy turned to the emerging threat. "Be-begone Masked Players! You aren't wanted!"

From the largest form that the cloud made stepped a man of about six feet in height. He was dressed formally, in a tuxedo and cummerbund set, with a red velvet cape that matched the sacred fabric Uta held draped around his shoulders and sweeping the floor. It was his face, however, that Uta was most concerned about. He wore a full face mask set in a deep frown. Through the mouth hole, his smile was a sinister contrast. "Oh, dear shrine maiden of the Cure Costumes, who doesn't want a performer around? You call yourselves the guardians of performance and theatre? And yet, you'd send a hungry actor away?"

"If it's food you want-"

"No, no, dearest… Uta? That is your name? I never did say what I was hungry for. Please, don't stand in my way. I've only come to collect the final Cure Costume." He nodded towards a marble pedestal in the middle of the shrine. On it sat the last remaining fragment of hope in the entire universe. To the untrained eye, it looked simply like an old fashioned ladies' fan. Uta, however… and probably this villain too… could see the faint aura of magic, sparkling and shimmering in the air.

Uta took a step backwards protectively. "You already have a Cure Costume, worn on a face that doesn't deserve it! It isn't too late to regain the gods' favor if you abandon your quest. I won't let this Costume go without a fight, so turn back!" She frowned, hopefully with some amount of menace, and wished that the sound of growls and snarls came naturally to her.

The Masked Player tilted his head in thought. "A fight? Lovely, I've always enjoyed stage combat."

From the cloud, three more figures made themselves known, each donned in another Cure Costume. A pale, fanged woman in a long dress that cast long shadows hid behind layers of colorful makeup. Next to her stood a large man in all black. Even his head was covered with an ominous-looking hood. Near him was a young lady in the robes of ancient Greece, who wore an enormous mask twice the size of her head, with a crown attached to it. The three of them silently surrounded Uta, who refused to let herself quiver in despair. If anything, she made herself bigger, pushing her head and shoulders back.

Then, the first Masked Player swept his cape over her, and as if by magic, everything went black.


OP: LIGHTS UP! Pretty Cure Perfect Stage!


"Good morning, Miracopolis! It's 6 AM, and this is DJ Cendrillon coming to you from WSHN 101.6, your local college radio! For those of you just getting up, welcome back to the world of the living. It's Monday, the last week of August… let's start it off with some music!"

Valentine Anderson rolled over in her bed in response, shoving her pillow on top of her head and all of her short, wavy red hair. Music sounded like the worst idea ever.

"Here at WSHN, we like to support our local Miracopolis artists… after all, folks, we're the world capital of arts and culture! Except for maybe, New York City. And Paris. And London. And… well, my point is. We've got ten local artists queued up for the next hour. Some you know, some you don't. Coming in first, we've got my personal local fave. Who she is, only a few lucky ducks know, but her music is rocking this city. We've got the new single from White Swan coming up…"

"Valentine!" called Moira Anderson as she knocked rapidly on the bedroom door. "Are you up yet? First day of school!"

"Nnnnno," Valentine returned as upbeat pop began to play.

"Get up, quick! Your mother made pancakes."

"I'm not hungry, I'm too nervous."

The door opened. Moira poked her head in. "What are you doing being nervous?" she asked. "Not like you've never been to school before!"

Valentine lifted the pillow off of her head and cracked open an eye. It was just her luck to have two morning people as mothers. "Okay, okay, I'm not that nervous, but I figured something out. If I don't have to get up for breakfast, I can sleep in about half an hour more, right?"

"Get up! You're going to eat! I'm not letting her make me eat all the pancakes myself again!"

Moira's voice dropped to conspiratorial horror. "She doesn't even make them right! Besides, some mum I'd be if I let you go off to school on an empty stomach. I don't care for child services after me on your first day of your final year."

"Fine, fine." Valentine rolled her big brown eyes. "I'll be up in a few moments, Mum."

"I'll hold you to it, then!" All too cheerful, Moira slipped out and closed the door behind her.

Yawning, Valentine sat up and pulled the covers back. As she got up, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her bed head was as bad as ever, it seemed, and she quickly grabbed her hairbrush from its place on her nightstand and tamed the flyaway strands until most of them sat tamely. She sighed, knowing it was about as good as it was going to get, and turned towards the chair where she had set her school uniform the night before. "Hello, my old enemy," she whispered with completely intentional dramatics. For a moment, she was an anime villain, and she struck an appropriate pose. "It seems… we must put aside our feud and collaborate once again… but don't mistake this for friendship. At the end of this year, you will be destroyed. Violently."

The uniform didn't respond.

After a second more of holding the pose, Valentine broke, laughing a little at her own antics as she changed out of her pajamas. After those were tossed unceremoniously onto the ground, she picked up the slacks first. Thank goodness there was a pants option, or else she didn't even think she could vaguely tolerate the Parados Academy uniform. After the grey pants were on, she threw on the slightly wrinkled white shirt. Over that went the Parados Academy wine red sweater vest with the school crest stitched in, and finally, she tied the goldenrod bow around her neck, expertly turning it into more of a bowtie than a ribbon. Again, she appraised herself in the mirror. If nothing else, she looked sharp. That was probably the point.

She grabbed her school bag, hoping she remembered to prepack everything she'd need for the day, flicked off the radio, and clamored down the hall to the kitchen, where her moms already were. Moira smiled from the kitchen table, while at the stove, Jamie Anderson flipped another couple of pancakes onto a steadily growing plate. "Mama, are you trying to feed a small army?" Valentine asked as she slid into a chair at the little wooden table.

"We can save them for breakfast for the next few days!" countered Jamie.

"We're going to be so sick of pancakes."

Jamie smiled sheepishly. "Your mum and I can take some for lunch, too."

"Hey! Speak for yourself!" Moira glared, but it was lighthearted. "Valentine, you have to eat at least three, okay?"

"Fine by me!"

Grabbing a plate and digging in, Valentine grinned. There was a legitimate twinge of nerves as she waited to start her senior year of high school, but at least it was off to a good start. A normal start. Everything from her mama making too much food to her mum being goofily grumpy was completely ordinary. It only stood to reason that the rest of the day would be, too.


Uta awoke in a small cage lined with newspaper. Like I'm some sort of misbehaving pet, she thought as she looked around. She was pleased to find that she still clutched her sacred cloth. They must have assumed it held no power. Perhaps, with the Realm of Wings shrouded in darkness, it didn't.

Around her, the room was dark except for a single spotlight that shone upon a large red throne with gilded trim. There was something near-divine about it, but that only made it seem blasphemous. This throne belonged to someone who thought they were as good as the Divine Playwrights. Uta was sure of it. "Hello?" she called out, anger carrying in her voice. "Is anyone here to monologue at me while I'm trapped in a cage, or are you all just inconsiderate-"

"Patience, Uta," hummed a soft voice. It held a hint of an accent, not enough to place, but enough to give the voice a musical lilt. "I wouldn't keep you waiting for long."

From the darkness emerged a woman who had to be taller than six feet. She wore a tailored grey suit, and dark red hair cascaded over it gorgeously. Even from behind, Uta could tell that this person was clearly attractive, though perhaps not in the traditional sense. If only she could see her face… figure out who this person was… it wasn't any of the four Masked Players who had haunted the Realm of Wings.

The woman's fingers gently skipped over the cage bars as she passed Uta, and Uta tried to grab one with no success. The woman chuckled as she climbed the stairs of the dais where the throne sat. Still with her back to Uta, she spoke once again. "Welcome to my palace. You are in a realm that we here call the Gangrene Room. It is my domain, but I do love visitors. I'm honestly glad you chose not to submit quietly to my generals. It does add a bit of much needed drama, doesn't it?"

"Who are you?"

"I am Lady Skene, queen of this realm. But soon, I will be much, much more."

"You'll never take over the Realm of Wings or the World of Stages! They have people who will protect them and-"

"I never intended to take them over. No, no. There are people who can run things just fine. I've never been interested in that. That's what stage managers are for, don't you think? No, darling, I've always had higher aspirations. Once I was content to be an actor, but now I confess I love the idea of having a distinct vision that everyone follows. I don't want to run the world, love. I want to direct it."

Uta's blood ran cold.

With grace, Lady Skene turned around, and for the first time, Uta caught a glimpse of her bright red eyes underneath a large and terrifying black mask. Though it was shaped similarly… "That's not a Cure Costume," Uta whispered. "What is it?"

"I'm sure you'll find out soon enough, my pretty little pink shrine maiden. For now, put it out of your mind. You've had a long day, and I didn't mean to keep you. I simply wanted to introduce myself. Now that that's over, why don't you take another little rest?"

Lady Skene waved a white-gloved hand, and Uta struggled to stay awake. Once again, however, everything went black as she fell to the darkness.


The gates of Parados Academy were open invitingly when Valentine got there. In the courtyard, older students gathered, talking to friends they hadn't seen all summer. New students gathered too, making small, scared packs that dotted the scene. It's a little intimidating, isn't it? Parados is a good school, and it's not entirely traditional. No wonder they're scared. With that in mind, she beelined to the closest group of freshmen. There were four of them, each wearing the more typical skirt uniform. Valentine smiled warmly. "Freshmen?" she confirmed. The girls nodded. "Welcome to Parados Academy! I'm Valentine Anderson… who are you all?"

The one who spoke up seemed to be the least shy of them, perhaps more lost than nervous. "I'm Caroline. That's Mira, that one is Ellie, and she's Jane."

"Nice to meet you! I'm really glad you're here, and I hope we can become friends. Do you all know where you're going?"

"I think… the chapel?" said Caroline.

"Is this a religious school?" asked Jane.

Valentine shook her head. "Nah, it just sounds fancier than the auditorium, I guess. The teachers here like to be formal sometimes, and other times it's completely informal. It takes some getting used to, but I'm sure you'll get it. There's lots of people around to help. Do you know where the chapel is?" They shook their heads. "In through the front door and keep going all the way straight to the back. It's at the very end of the hall. You've got about twenty minutes, and it's hard to get lost, so try not to worry!"

"Thank you!" Caroline said warmly.

Valentine grinned again. "Yeah, no problem! Nice to meet you all!"

She walked away and intended to turn and find another group of freshman, but instead was startled by a sudden clap on her back. "Are you avoiding people your own age?" asked a familiar voice.

Valentine turned her head to face Carissa Blanchard. As always, Carissa looked like a cooler, younger, very different in appearance Valentine… or maybe, she simply looked how Valentine always wanted to look. Her uniform pants were slightly too big, allowing her to roll them up all the way to the knee like a pair of shorts, and her ribbon was untied in a way that managed to look just the right amount of rebellious. Instead of the formal shoes that the school recommended, she wore a pair of old sneakers. With her outfit and the way her black hair was tied up in a high ponytail, Valentine was almost surprised she didn't just carry around a soccer ball under her arm to complete the look. "You're one to talk. You were one of those freshman I helped just a year ago."

"I didn't need the help as much as them, though. Did I?"

"No, probably not. How was your summer?"

"It was wild! I went off to camp in Pennsylvania and did a whole program based around sports, and that was cool and all, but I think that the CITs there were…"

Standing behind Carissa was a lone girl. She seemed to be a freshman, but there was no worried crowd with her. Her straight black hair was cut into a bob that framed her face, and even though her skin was dark, her cheeks looked flushed. She glanced around, searching for something or someone…

"Earth to Valentine? Valentine?"

"Huh?"

Carissa looked behind her. "You just got an urgent need to go help the freshman, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh."

Carissa sighed. "Well, go to it then. We can catch up once you're done being the hero. Don't let Bronwyn catch you, though. You know she'll try to take the credit."

"Yeah, no problem! See you, Rissa!"

Without waiting for a response, Valentine jogged up to the girl. "Hi, how are you?" she asked politely.

The girl looked up. She was short, youthful, even discounting the fact that Valentine stood at an easy 5'10". "I think I'm a little lost," she said.

"I'm happy to help. I'm Valentine Anderson, by the way. I'm a senior here. And you?"

"Saachi Sloane. I'm new. I mean, I'm a freshman. But I'm also new! My family, we just moved here, I mean. To Miracopolis. From Ohio."

Valentine smiled as the girl stumbled, a little unsure what to do. "Well, uh, welcome! I bet it's a lot different, huh? So, what are you looking for?"

"My sister, actually! She's a junior. I don't know where she went…"

This was definitely a little out of Valentine's depth. Navigating the old hallways of Parados Academy was one thing. A missing person was something entirely else. "Where were you meeting her?"

"The courtyard. That's here, right?"

"Yeah! Um, I could help you look?"

Saachi slumped. "No, it's fine. There's not much time until class, anyway. I should probably get to my homeroom."

"We don't have homeroom, actually, we have a grade by grade assembly every morning… I heard freshman are in the chapel. You can find it if-"

"Don't worry, I know, I toured the school last weekend!" The girl brightened and grinned. "But thanks! Nice to meet you, Valencia!"

"It's Valent-"

She was already halfway across the courtyard, moving as though she was doing a very, very fast dance, complete with a couple of twirls that caused her skirt to swirl gracefully. Valentine blinked. What was that?


Partway into the studio theatre where seniors met for assembly, Valentine skid to a halt as four of her classmates blocked her path. "Um, hi, guys!" she said. "Could I get through, please?" Her eyes appraised the four women, and she mentally cursed as she realized who they were.

The vice president of the student council stepped forward. "We need to see you before assembly. Privately."

"Um. Okay."

"Let's step to the side, shall we?"

Dumbly, Valentine followed the group. In her imagination, they were suddenly a group of wicked witches intent on performing a human sacrifice. That's why Gina Meyers, the secretary, was so energetic all the time, and why the treasurer, Emily Kahn, was notoriously brilliant. It was how vice president Laura de la Cruz happened to be so quick-witted, and president Bronwyn Loveland managed to keep her long, blonde hair so gorgeous and effortlessly smooth and shiny. They were obviously taking those things from more deserving people, just like in that teen witch movie Valentine had watched last halloween. The difference was that in the movie, once you were sacrificed, it was over and you were dead. Valentine felt like she was getting sacrificed again and again.

They stopped. "Come on," said Laura. "You have to know why we're talking to you."

"Because I helped some freshmen?"

"Because you consistently undermine our authority," Bronwyn said, cutting in as smooth as butter with a voice like poisonous ice cream. "You showed no interest in joining the student council, and yet you consistently do our jobs for us. You welcome the new students, help people who are lost, tour visitors…"

"What's there for us to do?" asked Gina.

"When people need things they go to you, not us," Bronwyn explained. "It's harmful to the student body as a whole. Someday, they're going to come to you with something you can't help with, because you may have the heart, but you have none of the power. It's better if you just stay out of things and let us do our jobs. We've been trying to tell you for over a year now. If this doesn't stop, we may have to get a teacher involved."

Valentine raised an eyebrow. "What are you going to even say, that I was helping others too much?"

"That you're going against school spirit, overstepping your boundaries, sabotaging the student council."

"And causing our bake sale numbers to decline because people aren't as familiar with us," said Emily.

Bronwyn smiled. Something not quite nice was behind it. "I don't want to have to take that step, so I'm asking you nicely one more time. Please, just stay out of other people's business and let us do our job."

Valentine frowned.

"Say you will. Please."

"I'll try not to overstep," Valentine grumbled. "But I won't stop helping people."

"And we don't ask you to. Just… think about how your actions make the rest of us look. Okay? Okay. Nice chatting with you, Valentine." Bronwyn turned, her hair flying out behind her, and walked towards the theatre. The other student government members followed, leaving Valentine behind.


In the Gangrene Room, a small common area not too far from Lady Skene's throne hosted the four Masked Players. They sat around an ornate table that held four of the Cure Costumes. One was shaped like a funny sort of mask that cut off right below the nose. Its features were comical and exaggerated. Next to it was a delicate lady's fan, complete with lace and embroidery. Next to that sat a masquerade mask with feathers and sequins in all sorts of bright colors, and finally, there was a simple white mask with a big smile that anyone even vaguely familiar with theatre could recognize.

"The last four. We have them all, all of the Cure Costumes! Now, Lady Skene's great direction can finally get underway. And as the best actors in the universe, we'll be in the starring roles!" proclaimed the fanged lady.

"Not yet, Madam Dangerfield!" chided the suited man. "Possessing the Cure Costumes means nothing. We must use them to our advantage in order to give our Lady ways to manipulate the World of Stages into following her directions."

"How so?" asked the man in all black.

"Well, the little swan fairy we captured weeks ago told us everything we need to know. Of course, the Cure Costumes grant their users magic, strength, agility, and power. But they do one other thing. Don't you all remember? Madam Dangerfield? Shadow? Pandora?"

The three of them shook their heads.

"When someone uses a Cure Costume, it reveals their truest self. For us, it revealed our natural status as the finest actors the world has ever seen, of course. The other Cure Costumes… they are weapons, don't you see? If we find a person whose heart is ugly and monstrous, even just for a moment, then they will become the sort of being who will spread chaos and fear. And what do people want in the wake of chaos? Order! Order that we will be so happy to provide! It's brilliant and magical!" The man grinned through his frowning mask.

The robed woman, Pandora, sighed. "But we only have four spare Cure Costumes. Will four monsters be enough, Artu?"

Artu frowned. "You have a point. It's unlikely… hmm. I will stay behind and think. So will two more of you. Someone else, take a Cure Costume and go to the World of Stages. We must start this plan promptly."

Snakily, Pandora put one finger to the side of her nose. Madam Dangerfield followed, as did Artu. It was a beat before Shadow realized what was going on. He stamped a black-clad foot. "You all leave me the dirty work."

"It's your own fault for not being fast enough," said Artu. "Now, take a Cure Costume and do your duty to the Masked Players."

"Fine. I'm going!"

With a wave of his hand, he vanished from the Gangrene Room in a puff of smoke. When it cleared, only three Cure Costumes remained on the table.


EYECATCH: Valentine twirls in a Romeo-esque outfit on a large proscenium stage. A bubble pops, and it's revealed she's been daydreaming in class. She smiles sheepishly as the logo appears


First day assembly always went on for hours, and Valentine knew it. Her sudden bad mood had made her very unequipped to handle it, however. She slumped into her seat, bored, as the handbook was read line by line. She doodled idly as the welcome speech was given. By the time it was time for first-day-back team building, she felt like she was going to burst from boredom.

"The senior members of the student council will now be leading a game of competitive rock, paper, scissors-"

"Ugh," said Valentine under her breath, causing the people to both sides of her to look confused. As everyone else stood, she tried not to look as unhappy as she felt. People looked up to her. That was both a blessing and, apparently, a curse. She didn't want to let on about what she had been talked to about. Bronwyn's words echoed like a hex in her head. It's harmful to the student body as a whole. Someday, they're going to come to you with something you can't help with, because you may have the heart, but you have none of the power. It's better if you just stay out of things and let us do our jobs.

Now, Bronwyn's voice carried to explain the rules of the same game they played every first day for the last four years. Valentine sighed and looked around at her classmates.

A few people away, a girl jumped and shrieked quietly. Bronwyn looked her way, then continued talking as though nothing had happened. A couple beats later, however, a few girls started jumping, little noises of distress muffled against each other as they clung to their friends. "What is it?" Valentine heard one say, too loud against Bronwyn's speech.

"A cockroach!"

"No, a spider!"

"It's too big and it's red! A scorpion!"

As she looked to the ground, sure enough, Valentine saw something bright candy red skittering around. It looked just as unhappy to be in a sea of teenage girls as the girls were for it to be there. Valentine frowned as the antics got louder. Bronwyn didn't seem to be stopping, only raising her voice meaningfully to compensate.

Someone had to do something.

"Excuse me!" Valentine pushed through the crowd of terrified girls, her eyes following the creature on its path. She ducked past people, weaving in and out. She could feel eyes on her. I'm only doing what you refused to! It's your own fault! she thought spitefully as she finally got to a place clear of girls, with only her and the small animal. Recklessly, she dove so that her hands grasped around the skittering little being, who seemed to be trying to escape but with no clue where to turn. Valentine stood up and took a closer look at it, hoping it wasn't actually a scorpion, but it seemed to be nothing more than a baby crab. Its big eyes that sparkled strangely intelligently were on the verge of tears. "Are you okay, buddy?" Valentine asked softly. "It's okay. I'm here to help. I'm not gonna hurt you. Let's get you outside, okay?"

"Valentine caught it!" someone cried out, and a rousing chorus of cheers started.

Valentine blushed, embarrassed, until she felt a cold stare on her. She turned to see Bronwyn. "Thank you for helping," said the student council president in a voice so icy cold that Valentine could only imagine herself turning into a very tall and gawky ice sculpture… another prize for Snow Queen Bronwyn's palace, she supposed. "We all appreciate it, but I can take it from here. If you'll hand our little visitor over to me, I'll make sure it gets somewhere safe." She held out a hand expectantly.

"Don't you want to finish going over the rules?"

"I already did. You were listening, right? Must have gotten a bit distracted with the danger, I suppose. It's alright." Her eyes gleamed with a clever intelligence that Valentine wished wasn't being played against her.

Reluctantly, Valentine gave the small crab over, but not without a final pat on the head. "Please, make sure it's safe," she said to Bronwyn.

"I will. I keep my promises." Bronwyn took the crab firmly and started off, leaving a gaggle of giggling teenagers gossipping about how they almost lost their lives to a beast, and leaving Valentine unsure of what wrath she had incurred.


By the end of the day, there was still no sign of the wrath of the student council, and that only served to make Valentine more nervous. There was all sorts of energy inside her that she couldn't seem to get out. Part of her wanted to cry, part of her wanted to punch someone, and part of her wanted to go tattle to a teacher. Not that anyone would believe that perfect Bronwyn Loveland was like this. Not like Bronwyn was technically doing anything wrong. Anyway, she was in twelfth grade, not third.

Instead of everything she wanted to do, she opted to take the long way home through Pageant Park. There was something relaxing about all the trees, especially in Miracopolis where skyscrapers usually took their place. The grass swayed gently, and flowers were planted freely. If she tuned out the sound of the car horns and the people moving too-rapidly from one place to another, Valentine found that she could almost forget she lived in a major city at all. As she breathed in the air, smelling the plants around her and revelling in it, she sunk down to sit under a large tree. "So today went bad," she told herself. "Maybe tomorrow won't be so bad. I can't ever have another today, I guess."

She closed her eyes for a moment and imagined herself as a charming prince who had faced down a dragon… a dragon of ice and lightning. Yes, the prince was forced to retreat, but that didn't mean that the story was over. No, the prince could come back stronger. Maybe then she could defeat the dragon. Maybe she could even befriend the dragon. Unlikely, but it was Valentine's fantasy, and she could do what she wanted in it.

"Excuse me, miss?"

"Oh, sorry, yes?" said Valentine as she opened her eyes and looked up to face the person who addressed her.

There was just one problem. No one was there.

"Down here, miss!"

Valentine looked down.

In front of her stood a very small animal with golden-red fur and big blue eyes that were, like the crab's, too intelligent. It stood bipedal, tapping one foot impatiently. "Hello. Did you know you're giving off incredible creative waves right now?"

Valentine let out a noise halfway between a curse word and a shriek. The small animal patiently waited. After a moment without incident, Valentine had mostly calmed. She was certainly calm enough to speak. "Uh, ah, excuse me. Uh. A-are you talking?"

"Yes, I am talking to you. Oh, wait, did you mean in general? Yes, I am. Nice to meet you! My name is Meisner!" It… she?... stopped tapping her foot and instead stuck out a paw. As though in a trance, Valentine took it and shook. "What's your name?"

"I'm. I'm Valentine. Um, what are you. A-a fox, right?"

"No, I'm not. I'm a fairy muse!" she said with stomp of her foot before adding "...and I think I'm more of a maned wolf, if anything… huh, I dunno, now that I think about it..."

Valentine looked around. If someone else is in the area, they can tell me if I'm seeing things. It seemed, however, that she and Meisner were alone. "A fairy muse?"

"Yes!" Meisner nodded. "I'm from the Realm of Wings. Think of it as a recycling center for creative energy! When a person from the World of Stages… that's what we call your planet… has an idea, they produce tons of energy! When they finish the idea, the energy has to go somewhere, so it flies to the Realm of Wings where we turn some of it into magic and send some of it back down to Earth so other people can get creative ideas. The thing is, oftentimes creative types are bad about finishing things. That's where fairy muses come in. The fairy muses are given jobs, like coming to the World of Stages to befriend and cheer on creative humans so that they finish their projects. Like a guardian angel, but not at all! It's all very efficient!"

"Oh! And so you've come to encourage-"

"Oh, no, no. Sorry for the misunderstanding. I'm here to retrieve the Cure Costumes, but I felt you creating and just had to come over and encourage you! So what is it? Are you writing a story? Are you thinking of doing art? Are you going to be in a play? Plays are my favorite!"

Valentine blushed. "No, I haven't acted in years, and anyway, I don't do anything with the stories I make up. I just tell them to myself to cheer myself up when I'm sad."

Meisner frowned. "You're sad, then? What's wrong?"

It seemed very embarrassing to tell a small maned-wolf-slash-fairy-muse what was wrong, especially when she may not have even been real. Valentine sighed and curled her knees into her chest. "It's nothing, really. Maybe I'm just being overly sensitive."

"If it's making you upset, that's not you being overly sensitive, that's you expressing your emotions. I'm told creative types have a lot of those."

"You're told?"

Meisner was the one to blush this time. "This is my first trip down to the World of Stages, in all honesty," she admitted.

"Are you lost? I'm good at giving directions."

"Not exactly. I'm looking for someone."

Not again. "Is there anyway I can help?"

"Well… you probably haven't seen a little red fairy muse lurking around somewhere, have you?" Valentine opened her mouth in surprise, ready to answer. She was cut off by a sudden darkening of the sky. Meisner, too, froze. "Oh no. Oh no!"

"What is it?"

"The Masked Players! They've found me! Valentine… please… hide me!"

Meisner didn't wait for permission or agreement before jumping on Valentine's arm and scampering across it and into Valentine's school bag. Valentine blinked, stood, and hugged herself nervously. "Uh. Okay! What's happening?"

"That," said a voice, "is a very vague question."

A beacon of smoke appeared in front of Valentine, and out stepped a man dressed completely in black. Not a bit of skin showed, not even eyes or nose or mouth. His hood had a netted bit in front that shielded him, and the entire hood drooped eerily. Still, Valentine could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke once again. "I can feel the sadness in your soul, and the anger in your heart. It's been soothed slightly, but not to the point of being healed. Yes, you'll do." He snapped his fingers, and in his hand appeared a black mask with exaggerated features.

"Valentine! You need to run!" said Meisner. "He has two Cure Costumes. There's no telling what he could do with them!"

"He what?"

"Who are you talking to?" asked the man curiously.

Meisner hopped out of the bag and onto Valentine's shoulder. "Shadow, leave her alone!" she demanded.

"Oh, it's Meisner. I was wondering if we'd see you again. Do you remember Suzu, Viola, Eti, Laban, and Stella? They all send their love. Oh, and I'm forgetting someone, I know I am… oh yes… Uta is with us now too. As I'm sure dear Konstantin and yourself will be soon."

Meisner growled.

"Why don't you just come home to the Gangrene Room, little fairy muse? The last two shrine maidens of the Realm of Wings can hardly compete against the Masked Players and Lady Skene. You've lost all that you swore to protect. What's the point anymore? You'd feel better with your friends."

"I won't! There's still things left to protect. Like creativity, and theatre, and Valentine!"

Shadow looked Valentine over appraisingly. "Hmm. Fine. How about this, then? Let's strike a deal, little heroic fairy muse. Give yourself up to protect this one, and I won't turn her into a raging monster. Is that enough protection for you?"

Meisner froze. She looked at Valentine, who felt like she looked very confused. "I-"

"You have to the count of three. One… two…"

"I'll do it, then," said Meisner. "You're right. I can't protect everyone anymore, but if I can protect just one, then…"

"Good. Then come to me. We really must be going."

"Wait!" said Valentine. "What just happened? Meisner, did you just give yourself up to some evil dude?"

Meisner hung her head. Shadow laughed. "It's none of your business anymore, little girl. Come along, fairy muse."

Hopping off of Valentine's shoulder, Meisner shuffled slowly towards Shadow. A million thoughts raced through Valentine's head. She should turn and run. She should grab Meisner. She should get sad. She should get angry. One thing, a remnant from only ten minutes before when she'd been upset about smaller things, bubbled to the surface. She kind of wanted to punch someone.

Valentine stepped over Meisner and ran towards Shadow, fist out and ready. As she approached, she swung with everything she had. She was a prince, a knight, a magical girl. She was powerful, and she was going to win.

He caught her fist. Effortlessly, he threw her backwards. She didn't even realize she was almost flying over the grass and flowers until she crashed into the ground meters from where she had been a moment before. Gasping for breath, she forced herself to stand up, raising her fist. She could feel a thin trail of blood coming from her forehead. "This isn't right!" she wheezed. "Come on, fight fair, you jerk."

"There are no fair fights in life, child," said Shadow. He twirled the mask in his hands. "I did tell your little fairy muse I wouldn't use this, but it's in self defense. That hardly counts. Cure Costume! Cue Ensomber!"

The mask flew at her with surprising accuracy, though it seemed to Valentine that Shadow had barely flicked his wrist. She could feel something monstrous growing in her as it approached. Sadness. Anger. Hunger. What was she even hungry for? She was hungry for… for…

For justice and truth and beauty and creativity. For a good story. For a good show.

Her arm darted out with almost supernatural speed and she caught the mask that would otherwise have hit her in the face. As she did, the black mask glowed and turned a beautiful bright red. Feelings of anger and sadness faded until all that was left was Valentine's drive to make things better. "This isn't the way of this mask," she said. "You've somehow turned it into a weapon, but all weapons can be things of beauty, too! I'll use my creativity to turn it back into something wonderful. That is my motivation! Pretty Cure! Endow my world!"

She put the mask on and the world turned into light.

When it faded, Valentine stood center stage, a single spotlight shining on her. She looked up into the light, letting it hit the shine of her eyes as she called out her wishes, her hopes, her dreams. "With comedy and smiles, let's go! It's showtime!" Swiping her foot into a neat kick, she stepped forward and instinctively grabbed the red velvet curtain in front of her. It easily separated from the stage, shrinking until it was small enough that she could comfortably throw it around her like an oversized tunic or cape. Underneath it, she could feel her school uniform changing around her, a faint glow leaking out with its own light as it did. Her pants shortened and poofed out a bit into what seemed almost like short red breeches, and as she pulled the curtain away, sweeping it back into a capelet, she saw that it had transformed her shirt into a white and puffy-sleeved thing. Overtop was a red vest with golden trim and white frills.

She kicked out her feet and thrust out her arms. One by one, more details appeared… red boots over white socks, white gloves. A bump of her hip, and over her vest appeared a belt of white ribbon with a golden drama mask charm securing it instead of a buckle or tie. Valentine smiled and clapped her hands together once, twice, three times, and a golden charm bracelet appeared on her left hand. She touched the mask on her face, and it shattered, the energy from the breakage changing her hair into a slightly longer and much brighter style. She accepted this just in time to see the mask she put on, the Cure Costume, reforming as a tiny charm on her charm bracelet.

Valentine wanted to look at herself, but adrenaline was racing. It felt like she was on a real stage, giving a real performance. That meant there were still things left to do. She could hear music, and the applause of some invisible crowd. As the spotlight poured down on her, she bowed, then rose back up with a big smile. The energy of the stage seemed to surround her, giving her strength and power beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

Still, she needed something. She had one more line, on the tip of her tongue, as though she had said it before in a thousand rehearsals. She stepped on foot out, kicking it so she had it resting on its heel, and put her hands on her hips, head tilting up proudly. "A beacon of good cheer and fun times! Live on stage… enter, Cure Round!"


ED: Happiness Smile Objective


MEISNER: And now, it's time for the theatre term of the episode! Today's term is "at rise."

VALENTINE: Is that like when I got up this morning to the sound of the radio? I rose out of bed, right?

MEISNER: Actually, it's not too far out! A description of what something is like "at rise" describes what it looks like when the lights come up and the scene starts. So the scene where you were introduced definitely had you about to wake up at rise. Showing what something is like at rise is a pretty simple but powerful way to define a lot about the show that is about to unfold… and man is ours a good one! Tune in soon for another theatre term and another fun episode of Pretty Cure Perfect Stage!


CURE ROUND: Whoa! I'm a magical girl!

MEISNER: A legendary actor Pretty Cure! You're Cure Round!

CURE ROUND: And I'm expected to save the world? By myself?

MEISNER: No, you'll have some help! I think. I hope. Maybe.

CURE ROUND: Good, because I don't know what's going on! Someone come help me! Next time on Pretty Cure Perfect Stage… "Cure Round in Trouble! Break a Leg!"

MEISNER: We'll put on a lovely show just for you!