Fusion Cuisine – Part XIII: Spilling the Tea

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Little Witch Academia. All LWA-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio Trigger and Yoh Yoshinari.

[-]

Tokyo General Hospital

Four Years Ago

"I'm sorry it's taken so long to get in touch with you, Takeuchi-san," said the doctor, bowing for the umpteenth time in apology as he led him through the hospital corridors. "Every record we got our hands on seemed to indicate Shira Hasuno was childless."

"Yes, well. She put a great deal of effort into perpetuating that image," Masato Takeuchi told the other man, his expression neutral.

The doctor stopped at the threshold of a door marked: SECURE WING. NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRY.

"I must warn you. She's been in a vegetative state for over twelve years now," he cautioned the businessman. "It may be difficult to see her like this."

Masato thought of pointing out that the number of times he'd seen his mother at all could be counted on one hand, but decided against it. Best not to provoke any more awkward questions.

"Can I have some time alone with her?" he asked instead.

"Of course," the doctor stated with a nod, taking a few steps back toward the nursing station. "I'll just be here charting for a little while. If you need anything at all, press the nurse call button by her bed."

Satisfied that he'd managed to get through the entire exchange without betraying his actual feelings on the subject, Masato offered his own, perfunctory bow and slipped into the hospital room.

Before breaking into a wide-mouthed grin over what he found inside.

"Long time no see, old hag. Finally got what was coming to you, eh?" he said in simpering tones, leaning closer to really take in the sight of his mother's withered, emaciated form. "Just wish I'd been there in person to see it happen."

Really, she looked so pathetic that if she was literally anyone else on the planet, Masato might've felt a twinge of sympathy. Over a decade spent receiving food and oxygen through a tube had rendered her skeletally thin and ghostly pale; a mere shell of the witch who'd once delighted the world over with death-defying stunts and feats of bravery.

Himself included, once upon a time.

"Did you know we met once when I was a kid?" he asked, settling into a chair next to the bed and leaning back. "I expect you don't remember. All those performances and handshake events probably blend together by now."

For Masato however, cliché as it was, he still remembered it like it was yesterday.

His father dressing him to the nines, complete with the fanciest suit you could find for a seven-year-old. They couldn't really afford it, but dear old dad hadn't wanted her to know he'd squandered most of the hush money on gambling and bad alcohol.

Not that he'd had the first clue what "hush money" was at that age, or that his very birth had warranted it. He just knew that most of the other children at school had mommies, and he didn't.

Her job was too important for her to ever come home, his father had told him. Over and over again, the same refrain. At that age, he ate it up without questioning.

Looking back, he wasn't certain whether dear old dad was simply lying to him, as parents were wont to do, or actively delusional himself. Probably a little bit of both. He was, after all, little more than an obsessed fanboy, who'd happened to get lucky with his favorite celebrity and mistaken a one-night stand for love.

And he'd raised Masato to be equally as pathetic. In the Takeuchi household, any appearance by the White Lotus Witch automatically meant dropping everything to huddle around the TV, desperate to take in some small morsel of new information on the woman who'd abandoned them without a second thought.

That was how they'd seen a commercial for a meet-and-greet her agency was putting on at the Budokan. Tickets ran for tens of thousands of yen, but his father didn't care. He sank more money into them than he'd ever spent on Masato's schooling, without even blinking an eye.

More than anything else, Masato remembered that day for the scorching heat. They spent hours and hours in lines that never seemed to end, the midday sun bearing down on them all the while. He was pretty sure he'd almost collapsed at one point.

"But dad didn't let that stop him. He just kept telling me to keep my spirits up, because if you saw me smiling, surely you'd realize I was your son," he said to the comatose woman. "I guess I can see his logic. The settlement agreement meant he couldn't go near you, but if you approached me of your own free will, no one would object, right?"

Masato's scowl deepened.

"Of course, he was a fool. When we reached the front of the line, we got the exact same thing every other fan did. A handshake and a commemorative photo," he went on, his tones dropping quieter. "I still have that picture, you know. You aren't even looking at me. I mattered just as little as any of the other brats."

His fists clenched tight enough for nails to dig into his palms.

"I wish I could say I gave up on you back then. But that'd be a lie," he muttered scornfully. "I learned to delude myself from the best, after all. Obviously it wasn't your fault you didn't recognize me, it was mine. Because I wasn't good enough, somehow. And it didn't take long to convince myself why."

Up until that point, Masato's voice had been fairly level. Yes, he hated his mother, but those flames in his heart were like dim, smoldering embers. He'd given her so little thought these last few decades that he simply couldn't summon much passion on her behalf, one way or another.

The next subject, however, stoked a raging inferno.

"Magic," he scoffed, like it was a filthy swearword. "I wanted it more than anything I ever wanted in my life. Because then I could be like you. Because then, you might actually notice me."

As they always did when the topic came up, his fingers unconsciously brushed across the scar above his eye.

"I tried…so many times. To find that piece of myself. The part you left behind," said Masato, the scarred tissue almost seeming to ache beneath his touch. "And every failure stung more than the next. Even nearly getting my face blown off didn't dissuade me. No, the thing that finally did it was…"

He sucked in a deep breath, grateful that none of his business rivals could see him like this.

"He was a shitty dad, honestly," the words tumbled from his mouth, almost matter-of-factly. "Wasted his whole life chasing the high from the half-hour he spent fucking the White Lotus Witch. Didn't have two yen to scrape together by the end of it to help me with college or business school."

Fingers drummed restlessly against his hip. "But he was still my shitty dad, dammit. I don't shed tears, as a general rule. But I did at that funeral," he told her. "Not that you would know, of course. You didn't go. Why would you? I doubt you even remembered his name."

Masato watched the slow rise and fall of his mother's chest, each electronic beep from the heart monitor driving him to greater and greater frustration at the injustice of it all. His father certainly hadn't possessed enough wealth to pay for top-of-the-line medical care, twelve years after slipping into a coma.

He did, these days. But that was in spite of his parents, not because of them.

"Still, that day finally put it into perspective," he said after a while. "I couldn't keep chasing fantasies, or expecting a bitch who never gave a fuck about me to come around. I needed to seize my future with my own two hands. And I did. Takeuchi Holdings is one of the biggest real estate firms in Japan. No thanks to you, mother."

In the end, he knew there wasn't much point in saying these things. He'd known that from the start. If she hadn't woken up for over a decade, what were the chances of that changing now?

But then, by total happenstance, Takeuchi Holdings had happened to come into possession of the property formerly owned by Shira Hasuno. One look at the paperwork told Masato what'd happened to his long-lost mother.

And one DNA test from the hospital's lab told them he was the next of kin they'd been waiting for all this time.

Maybe he just wanted closure. To close out that chapter of his life once and for all. The one where he'd defined himself by what he wasn't, instead of what he was.

Being able to lob these grievances against a woman who couldn't respond was admittedly a little petty. But the businessman didn't care. He'd gotten them off his chest at last, and now he could focus on more important things.

No, Masato hadn't given spells or potions a second thought for decades, and he wasn't about to start now.

So of course, that was the moment when the sky outside filled up with a giant magic tree.

Unbeknownst to Masato, at the very same time halfway across the world, two young witches were summoning the power of the Grand Triskelion to neutralize a dark magic-infused missile. He was one of billions to bear witness to the result: the glowing majesty of the World Tree, Yggdrasil, lighting up the sky.

But none of that would've meant anything to him at the time. All he knew was that some kind of serious sorcery was at work here.

Of course, all the other patients and hospital staff had seen the exact same thing, so the entire ward was quickly in uproar. Figuring they'd be checking on the patients who weren't in a dozen-year coma first, Masato took that as his cue to leave.

"Well, this has been truly delightful," he said dryly, passing by his mother's bed one last time. "But I need to go and make sure…well, whatever that is doesn't affect my business. So thank you for 'listening,' mother. It's a bit ironic that the longest time we ever spent together was when you were comatose."

With that, he turned away, eager to be away of this place before the nurses started asking questions.

Only for a thin, bony hand to suddenly seize around his wrist.

Masato slowly turned around, recoiling in horror.

Shira Hasuno didn't look any less desiccated or corpselike now that she was awake, with the result being that she was essentially a zombie. Despite how much the years had atrophied her joints and muscles, her grip was like iron.

With tremendous, visible effort, her lips parted, and a voice like desert wind creaked out.

"Don't…go…"

Masato was still too stunned to offer more than a whispered, "How? How is this possible?"

"Magic…in the air…" she managed to choke out, each syllable seeming to cost every bit of strength she had left. "Not sure…how long…it'll last…"

That strange tree in the sky, he realized belatedly. The magic it released must've somehow kickstarted his mother's vitals, when no conventional medicine could.

But before he could think through the implications of this, the witch spoke something that turned his skin to ice.

"You are…my son…" she said. "Aren't you…?"

"How could you possibly know?" Masato demanded back, vein pulsing in his temple. "Why would you even care? You never have before."

Masato Takeuchi wasn't an easily spooked man, but the smile she wore in that moment sent genuine chills up his spine.

"Yet…you never wondered…" she responded, using both hands to lean forward without collapsing back into the hospital bed. "Why I…kept you…in the first place…?"

Of course he'd considered that question. A hundred times over. Abortion was technically illegal in Japan, but the exemptions were broad enough and his mother rich enough that she could've easily terminated the pregnancy if she actually wanted to.

So why instead spend nine months carrying a child to term she clearly didn't want, impacting her career and necessitating a big cash payout on top of it all?

"You were my…insurance…" the old woman answered her own question, when he had no such answer to give. "I knew…if something…like this happened…the winds…of fate…would bring you…right back…to me…"

With another surge of that surprising strength, Shira Hasuno pulled him close, so she could gaze more carefully at her only son's features.

"You've been…marked…by misused magic…" she continued to whisper, peering appraisingly at his eyebrow scar. "Good…I can…use that…"

Then, before Masato could get a word in edgewise, his mother pressed two bony fingers sharply against the scar tissue.

And his body was flooded by pain beyond imagining.

The sensation lasted only an instant, and yet Masato was at a loss merely to describe it. As if a hundred white-hot lances had been stabbed through the scar at different angles, each one leaving an invisible but excruciating exit wound somewhere else on his body.

For that instant, all he wanted to do was die. He would've traded every yen note and land deed to his name simply to be as his mother was five minutes ago: sleeping forever, blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world.

And then, abruptly, it was over. He rubbed at the scar tissue, which was still sore, only to feel something that hadn't been there before.

Twisting his neck around, he caught his reflection in the metallic sheen of some medical equipment. The fairly tiny scar had widened and changed shape, so that if he squinted, it almost resembled…

"A flower?" he said in a small voice.

"A white lotus," his mother corrected, breaking him out of his brief reverie. He turned back to see her bearing a condescending smirk, her face suddenly fuller and her skin deeper in color than they'd been just seconds ago. "And thank you for that little boost of vitality, by the way. Should last me just long enough to tell you what you need to do."

Masato felt a low growl escape his lips. "You're thanking me? Whatever you just took from me, you clearly stole," he snapped. "Anyway, what the hell makes you think I'd do a single thing you say?"

"The fact that you don't have a choice," she replied coldly. "What I just 'did' was bind our mana together. And transform that silly little scar of yours into a Sigil of Vengeance."

She indulged in a brief chuckle – a cruel, guttural sound – before explaining, "My life was destroyed by two meddlesome little witches. Chariot du Nord and Croix Meridies. I can never regain what I lost that night. But you, my dear boy…will be my instrument of revenge against them. And anyone else who stands in our way."

"And if I say no?" Masato asked, scowling.

The old witch cocked a thin eyebrow, turned stark white with age. Then suddenly, that same pain returned, splintering Masato's head like it was aflame. He doubled over, gasping for air before the sensation receded again.

"Then you'll continue to suffer," she said. "The Sigil will punish you if you ever venture from this path of blood. Keep being stubborn and it'll kill you. The only way it disappears is if you carry out my vengeance in full. As my son, that is your duty."

Those thoughts Masato had been having earlier, about how the wounds were too old for him to muster any real hatred for his mother?

That was no longer the case.

And yet, he could see no other way out. The pain he'd just suffered was so horrific, so intense, that he had trouble thinking of anything he wouldn't do to avoid experiencing it again.

Masato Takeuchi prided himself on bowing before no man. But in the end he sank his head to the woman who'd brought him into this world, and nodded once.

"How do I do it?" he murmured.

"Check my old estate, assuming it's still standing," said the witch. Masato knew for a fact that it was, because he was still searching for a buyer for the long-abandoned property. "In the master bedroom, hidden behind a vent covering, you'll find my diary. It has all the information you may need."

Masato's nostrils flared briefly. "Need to do what?" he asked impatiently. He had no time for riddles.

"You'll find a few pages dog-eared. From the summer of 1958," she stated, her tones rapid and clipped, like she was worried about running out of time. "Read about those adventures, and I think you'll start to see the bigger picture. If you're really my son, you should be clever enough to figure out the rest."

Before he could think of a response, however, the collective gasps of dozens, both inside and outside the hospital, rang through the air. Masato turned on instinct and saw the giant tree had vanished from the sky.

"Guess that's it. Miracle's over," she let out a defeated-sounding sigh. All the vigor and passion in her voice seemed to have vanished from one instant to the next. "Knew it…couldn't last…"

Masato slumped back in his seat, watching as the life vanished utterly from the woman he'd once have moved heaven and earth to meet. His mind was an emotional whirlwind, simultaneously horrified and captivated at the sight.

"I know it probably won't mean much, hearing this now…" she said in a low voice, her eyelids fluttering closed. "But there was a part of me that really did want to keep you. Raise you. I know you think I forgot all about you the second I left, but it isn't true. I always knew you were out there, somewhere. And I knew, one way or another…we'd meet again…"

She was right. These trite words meant nothing to Masato. Too little, too late.

Sixty years too late.

Still, he didn't feel nearly as elated as he thought he would when the heart monitor flatlined, and numerous doctors and nurses burst into the room in a futile attempt to resuscitate a woman who, for all intents and purposes, had already been dead for twelve years.

Perhaps he was too busy reflecting on the irony. Masato Takeuchi had come here to bury the past. Instead…

He'd been shackled to it like a prisoner.

[-]

"How much longer do you think it'll take to get to Tokyo?" asked Akko.

She frowned and leaned forward on the Shiny Balai, forcing it to keep pace with the brooms being flown by Lotte and Croix-sensei. Even all these years later, speed-flying was something she struggled with.

"Since we just passed over the northern border of Saitama Prefecture, perhaps another hour, assuming the winds remain favorable," Diana said from behind her. "We can switch again if you're getting tired, Akko."

"No, no! You just started resting!" she exclaimed immediately, her panicked tone only partially from the continuous sensation of having Diana's arms wrapped around her waist. "I can tough it out another hour, no problem."

Admittedly, she probably didn't help her case by immediately and loudly yawning.

The five of them had been flying throughout the night, and well into morning – Akko and Diana taking turns on the Shiny Balai, Lotte on her own broom, and both her senseis scrunched together on one of Croix's Roomba-like devices. Even though Ursula was finally starting to regain her flying abilities to some degree, this didn't seem the time to push their luck.

The former astrology professor had a crystal ball in her hands, which she was scrutinizing so intensely that she failed to notice a large bird steal her witch's hat midflight.

"Thank you for checking in," she told whoever was on the other end of the connection. "I trust they're both…oh, that's good. And the…yes, yes, of course. Right. Right. I'll keep that in mind. No, I…okay, fine. We will be careful. Thank you again, Miranda. We…yes, we'll speak again soon. Goodbye."

"Miranda?" repeated Croix, arching an eyebrow without turning around on her platform. "That was Holbrooke?"

"She called in some favors. Two retired members of the Arcanum Council have been stationed at Tokyo General," said Ursula. "Just in case Takeuchi tries anything else with your parents, Akko."

"I also, umm…heard from Frank. He and Andrew went into hiding after the Zoom call got cut off," Lotte added hesitantly. "They don't think Takeuchi's got any agents in the U.K., but since they're public figures Andrew figured better safe than sorry."

Diana's lip curled slightly. "That certainly sounds like Andrew," she remarked.

"Thanks guys. That's a huge relief," Akko told the others. "I don't want anyone else in danger because of me."

She hadn't meant that to sound as self-pitying as it came off, but the response it provoked in Diana was immediate.

"Akko, there is one and only one person who can be blamed for this. And that is Masato Takeuchi," she said firmly. "You have done nothing wrong. On the contrary, you continue to stand tall, facing this villain with boundless courage and heart."

"And yet everyone else keeps paying for it," Akko found herself arguing back. "My parents got sent to the hospital. All our friends were kidnapped. Poor Jasminka was brainwashed. And…"

The Japanese woman swallowed, before whispering, "And the same thing would've happened to you, if you didn't happen to be immune. Because I got you involved in this mess. Involved in my mess."

"Akko, all of us chose to come here and help out. And why wouldn't we?" Lotte asked pointedly. "I mean, you were willing to put everything on the line to find the author behind my favorite book series. It'd be kind of a jerk move to sit things out when a maniac threatens your family."

"Take it from someone who learned the hard way, kid. If you've got friends willing to jump into fire for you, don't question it. Just accept it," said Croix. "That's the most precious thing in the world. And you don't always know you had it till it's gone."

Diana pressed a hand onto Akko's shoulder, causing a chill that had nothing to do with the cold winds to run up her body.

"In the time since I came to work at Kagari's, not for one iota of a second have I regretted it," she told her former classmate. "It was, admittedly, something of an adjustment for our endeavors at renovating a failing restaurant to morph into a quest to vanquish a mystically empowered criminal…"

"Yeah, I think that kinda threw everyone for a loop," Akko muttered dryly.

"But nevertheless, it would be a travesty beyond countenance to leave you to face these travails by yourself," Diana pressed on. "None of us are going anywhere, Akko. And least of all I."

A few moments passed in silence, the cold dawn breeze coursing across their faces as they sped through the sky.

Then, her voice tepid and resigned, Ursula said, "Besides…if anyone is to blame for bringing this madness on everyone's heads, it would be us."

Four mouths opened simultaneously to protest this, but the Frenchwoman preempted them with a shake of her head.

"And before you all start, I'm not trying to make this into my own personal pity party," she added, scarlet eyebrows flaring. "When Takeuchi told you I'd wronged his family…I mean, it's not like he didn't have a point. It's one of the most important lessons I taught you all in astrology: everything is connected. And karma always finds a way of coming home to roost."

"Not trying to dodge my own responsibility in this. Which, let's be real Chariot, is way bigger than yours," replied Croix, while clinging just a little bit tighter to her wife. "But it'd be one thing if he was just coming after us. Instead, he's involved a bunch of random kids, some cousins he never actually met…and, like, the entire nation of Japan. I'm a former supervillain and even I think he's ceded the moral high ground here."

"Yeah! If I can't blame myself, then no one else can either!" Akko exclaimed, fist pumping in the air. "New rule, starting now!"

She hadn't really meant that as a joke, but all her companions broke into laughter nonetheless. The brunette chose to take it in stride.

Those laughs were abruptly cut short, however, as a very tall something suddenly appeared in the middle of their flight path.

Akko and Croix both reacted in time to dodge the structure, but Lotte collided straight into it. She sputtered about in an uncontrolled tailspin, fighting to keep her broom level, before a wave of Ursula's wand generated a golden wind that slowed her descent.

"Th…Thank you, Professor," she stammered, once she managed to get upright once again. "But, umm…did anyone else think that kinda looked like…"

Diana swallowed and nodded. "That was, unmistakably, a giant mushroom," she said.

"And not the last one you'll be dealing with, murderer," came a sharp voice that, in any other circumstance, Akko would've been over the moon to hear.

But as they looked up, and saw Sucy Manbavaran surrounded by five other witches, Akko had a sinking feeling this wasn't going to be much of a reunion at all. Maybe it was the scowls of pure hatred on each of their faces, looking particularly strange on Jasminka and Constanze…

Or else the fact that all six of them were pointing their glowing wands straight at Diana's heart.

[-]

It didn't take long for Diana to deduce the basic nature of their predicament. Clearly, neither Sucy, Amanda, Constanze, Hannah, nor Barbara were any less resistant to the Somnarca's curse than Jasminka.

But the specifics were still a mystery. She seized on the Filipina witch's last statement, shouting back, "Whatever Takeuchi told you in your dreams, it's a lie! We're your friends!"

"How fuckin' dare you," Amanda practically spat. "Callin' us friends, after what you did? Didn't think I could hate you any more than I already did, Cavendish, but there ya go."

"You know we weren't exactly close to her," said Hannah, as Barbara nodded vigorously. "But we never expected…that. Not from you, Diana."

Constanze forewent any kind of complex sign language, and instead made a two-fingered gesture that was impossible to misinterpret.

"Can someone just tell me what the heck you're all talking about?" Akko called out, waving her arms in a panic. "Diana hasn't done anything!"

But strangely, the other five witches seemed to completely ignore her.

Instead, Jasminka grimaced like she was looking at borsch that'd been spoiled for weeks, declaring to Diana, "You can no longer run from your crimes. папа asked us to bring you to justice, and that's what we're gonna do. Don't make this any harder than it has to be."

"Speak for yourself. I'm not giving her an easy way out," Sucy hissed. "Blondie here's gonna suffer, the way she made her suffer. And trust me. The things I can do are a lot worse than whatever you goody-girls might dream up."

At her wife's urging, Croix flew closer to her former students.

"I know this must be hard. But none of you are in your right minds," said Ursula, her tone pleading. "There are healing spells I can try, which might be able to undo some of the Somnarca's effects. If you'll all just stay still for a mo…"

But she was cut off as massive vines sprouted from the ground, courtesy of Hannah and Barbara. They bound the two older witches together, twisting around like woven rope. A pirouetting broom dive from Amanda had them both relieved of their wands a second later.

"Got a lotta nerve, tryin' to interfere now. When you barely lifted a finger to save her in the first place," they told the professors, tossing both wands up and down in their palm. "But the one I really don't get is you, Lotte. You were closer to her than any of us. Why're you standin' with that monster?"

The Finnish girl faltered, looking around helplessly at each of her friends in turn. "I don't…I mean…" she sputtered.

But she was cut off by Constanze, who was using her wand to open what looked like a small portal to her lab. A moment later, she was wielding what could only be described as a magitronic bazooka, at least four times larger than she was.

"That's our Conz, gettin' straight to the point," Amanda nearly growled. "Can't really blame her. This is the end of the line for you, Cavendish."

"It's time to pay!" exclaimed Jasminka, her expression twisted with more raw fury than Diana could've ever expected from the good-natured gourmand. "For killing Akko!"

Despite the gravity of the situation, the moment that followed was almost comical in its silence. As these words washed over Diana, Lotte, Ursula, and Croix, and as one, each of their necks twisted around to look upon the Japanese witch.

…Whose own mouth was hanging open like a frog's, unable to summon up any response apart from a single, deadpan word.

"What."

[-]

Lotte was the first of the group who recovered enough from their initial shock to voice the obvious objection.

"But Akko…isn't dead," she said. "She's right here!"

She waved her arms exaggeratedly around her Japanese friend, as if the issue was that they'd somehow simply failed to notice her.

Sucy, for her part, looked decidedly unamused – even less so than usual.

"Lotte, I know grief does weird shit to people. Trust me," she drawled, in tones that hovered somewhere between sympathy and contempt. "But we don't have time for this nonsense. Akko's gone, and there's nothing any of us can do to change that."

"We…never got a chance to really apologize. Sure we said sorry, but we needed time to show her how much we meant it," Barbara added, hanging her head in evident shame. "Time we'll never get back now. Why, Diana? Why would you take that away from us?"

"I'll tell you why," Amanda cut in, before anyone else could answer. "In her own, twisted way, she wanted Akko all to herself. That's why your pops said she'd be like this, eh Jasna? Deluded enough to think she's still got Akko hangin' with her. Just surprised she got Lotte and Teach 1 and 2 to play along."

Akko was just starting to put together the pieces of this incredibly bizarre puzzle, but true to form Diana already had the entire thing assembled.

"So in short, Takeuchi didn't have time to enslave you all completely like he did Jasminka. The Somnarca needs weeks, if not months, of continuous exposure before it can completely subvert a person's free will," she said. "Instead, he took a shortcut. Constructed a dream scenario in which you would all do his bidding willingly. Which, apparently, is some absolute rubbish where I did something untoward to Akko."

A conflicted look fell over the brunette's face. "You know, if they weren't trying to kill us, I'd be kinda touched that was the thing he knew would bring everyone together," she was forced to admit.

"Not especially helpful right now, Akko," Diana stated briskly.

"Okay fair enough," Akko replied. "How come they keep ignoring me, then?"

"That must be Takeuchi's doing as well. One's senses in a dream are more…malleable," the other woman attempted to explain. "Likely he has rendered them incapable of seeing, hearing, or otherwise perceiving your presence. To them, it must presently seem as if I am conversing with empty air."

"Th…Then how do we cure it?" asked a frightened Lotte.

"As I said before, I think I know magic that may help," Ursula piped up, still struggling from within her vine prison. "But that will require them to stay still for a long enough period. And…it doesn't seem like they're going to do that willingly."

"Enough of this!" shouted Amanda, who was growing visibly more incensed by the moment. "The rest of you can do whatever! I'm not waiting another second to take my revenge!"

That was the only warning they gave before divebombing the group, surrounding themself in a red magical aura to increase the impact.

Lotte and Akko (with Diana holding onto her for dear life) barely had enough time to dodge to the side, drawing wands as they did. Diana swept hers in a slashing motion, cutting through the vegetation and freeing the professors.

Reluctantly, all five witches took battle stances as Amanda recovered from their surprise attack, flying back into formation with the others.

"I don't wanna do this. I don't wanna fight you guys," said Akko, knowing full well they couldn't hear her. "But that's what it takes to save you…then okay."

[-]

Diana was no stranger to magical combat, but usually it'd been in the context of friendly sparring, carefully regulated within the school environment. At worst, they'd tackled a handful of out-of-control creatures, most of which went down without serious fuss.

This battle was something else entirely.

Driven by the fervent delusion that Diana was responsible for their friend's death (she was still trying to figure out how that worked, as the blonde witch would sooner swallow arsenic than harm a hair on Akko's head), four of the witches concentrated their fire primarily on her.

Hannah and Barbara were the only exception, as the only ones who'd been closer to Diana than Akko prior to the brainwashing. They hung back further than the others, primarily using plant magic and other support spells to aid their fellow witches.

But considering what those witches were bringing to bear, that was hardly a source of great comfort.

Sucy tossed flask after flask of foul-smelling potions, causing mushrooms of every shape and size to sprout around the battlefield. Diana recognized many of the species from textbooks, and was forced to summon magical shields to repel their colorful spores. The most benign of which could cause paralysis or horrible rashes, and the worst of which…

Well, there was a reason the common name for Amanita phalloides was "death cap."

Amanda continued to use their own broomstick and body as their primary weapon, coursing around the battlefield like a human-shaped rocket. Since they were still up high enough that getting unseated from their brooms meant certain death, this was a simple but shockingly effective tactic.

But the biggest impact they had on the course of the battle was that they were still playing keepaway with Ursula's and Croix's wands. Without them, the former professors were fairly limited in both offensive and defensive options.

Meanwhile, Constanze was lighting up the early morning sky with an absurd arsenal of magitronic weaponry. In addition to the pseudo-bazooka she'd pulled out earlier, she seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of magical assault rifles, shotguns, grenades, and even laser beams.

There was a good chance there were a few national militaries less well-armed than the mute witch right now.

Finally, that left Jasminka. With her interests lying far more in both the preparation and consumption of foodstuffs over actual schoolwork, Diana had rarely seen the Russian woman's magic in action.

She realized now just how much she'd been living in blissful ignorance.

Jasminka was what scholars called a Comedenti Solis – one who took on the properties of the things she ate. By waving her wand over a piece of takoyaki and then swallowing it, for example, her left arm turned into a mass of octopus-like tentacles. A plate of roast duck gave her wings that allowed her to leave her broom behind and take to the skies directly.

And unfortunately, this didn't appear to be limited to actual food. Partway through the battle, Jasminka caught one of the bullet casings flying from Constanze's magitronic rifle, and swallowed it whole.

A moment later, her pointer finger had morphed into an exact copy of the gun barrel. One which fired bullets that were just as deadly.

All of this meant Diana was forced to spend pretty much the entire battle on the defensive. She'd switched positions with Akko so that she was up front directing the broom, but she was so caught up in dodging attacks left and right that she could scarcely mount any of her own. A single lapse in concentration could prove fatal, so she poured every ounce of training she had into flying as swiftly and nimbly as possible.

Still, the fact that she was wielding the Shiny Balai was probably the only reason she was still alive right now.

The irony wasn't lost on the blonde. Her friends believed they were avenging Atsuko Kagari, but because they couldn't see her hanging onto Diana's waist as they weaved and bobbed around their attacks, they stood a good chance of killing her instead.

Worse, since the revived Shiny Rod had absorbed Akko's wand, so long as it was in Balai form she had no way of defending herself. That left only Diana and Lotte actually armed right now – and combat had definitely never been the latter's specialty.

"Diana…" whispered the brunette, as they watched a thrashing vine knock Lotte off-course. Croix swooped in to help her, only for a magical explosion to blast them apart.

"Akko, apologies, but I am rather busy at the moment," said Diana briskly.

But Akko wouldn't be deterred. "Diana, this isn't working," she pressed on. "We keep going like this, and it's only a matter of time before we slip up. Takeuchi will win, and our friends will never forgive themselves."

Deep down, Diana knew that she was right. It just wasn't something she'd had time to grapple with, between dodging giant mushrooms, gunfire, and – damn, that'd been close. When had Jasminka gotten a chance to eat alligator?

"What do you suggest we do, Akko?" she asked, honestly at a loss herself.

"We need to get close to Lotte. And on three, you're gonna jump to her broom," the other woman told her. "They can't see or hear me at all, so I'm our trump card. But that means I need to turn this thing into the Shiny Arc."

"Akko, no!" Diana exclaimed back. "The moment you change it from Balai form, you'll fall!"

"I can aim it while falling. The timing'll be tight, but I know I can do it. Well, umm…okay, at least like, 90% sure," said Akko. "Anyway, I trust you and Lotte to catch me before I hit the ground."

Diana bit her lip as she continued to dodge one attack after the next. This plan was insane, and they both knew it. But simply maintaining their current trajectory wasn't much of an option either.

To buy themselves enough time to do the swap, Diana waved her wand in a wide circle, conjuring a cloud of smoke to obscure them.

"I won't let you down, Akko," she murmured. And then, feeling emboldened by the heat of battle, she embraced the other witch tightly around the shoulders.

Before she could lose her nerve, she coursed through the smoke, taking a flying leap toward Lotte's broom. The Finnish girl reacted with surprise, but mercilessly stayed still long enough for her to make a clean landing.

"The hell're you doing, Cavendish?" demanded Amanda, stopping briefly mid-dash to marvel at a sight that, to them, must've seemed utterly bizarre.

But Diana didn't bother to answer. From within the dissipating smoke cloud, Akko was already turning the Shiny Rod from its Fifth Word form to its First.

"SHIIIIIIIIIINY…!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARC!"

Six bursts of light coursed from the enormous bow, but Diana didn't check to see if they'd landed. She was directing Lotte downward in a furious, desperate dive.

The wind rushed across her face, whipping her hair in every direction. Yet Diana pressed them forward still, hitting and then exceeding the limits of Lotte's comparatively slower broomstick.

Frantic hands fumbled for one another as they inched closer. Akko was still conscious, but only just; the sheer energy it'd taken to fire the Shiny Arc six times simultaneously must've left her too exhausted to resummon the Shiny Balai.

Finally, slender fingers found purchase with their counterparts, and Diana's heart sang as they swooped back into the sky, mere meters before they reached the ground.

In that moment, she felt she could've kissed Akko on the lips.

And so, she did.

[-]

Masato Takeuchi leaned against the back door of Kagari's, a lit cigarette in his mouth. He exhaled slowly, rubbing at his temple with his other hand.

As they often did these days, it didn't take long for the fingers to slip and rub against his facial scar. Or rather…what'd she called it? A something-or-other of vengeance?

The businessman sighed, before tossing the cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot. He supposed it didn't really matter in the end.

Soon enough, he would be free of his mother's legacy once and for all. Free of so many things.

And he wouldn't be the only one. If all went well tonight, his would be the last life ruined by a witch.

"Hey boss," said one of his underlings, bowing as he approached through the alley. Like all of his inner circle, he'd hollowed this one out so much with the Somnarca that he was barely even an actual person – just one of a few dozen nameless, interchangeable goons, each an extension of Masato's own will.

A lesser man might've felt a little guilty about that. But they were happy, their higher brain functions wrapped up in perpetual dreams of bliss. So what was the harm, really?

"How'd things go with Misono-sensei?" he asked the minion, though the question was mostly a formality.

Part of the formula for his success had been ensuring minimal "interference" from law enforcement. A few policemen, attorneys, and judges ensnared by the Somnarca was enough to accomplish that goal, and Misono-sensei happened to be among the most reliable.

If nothing else, he supposed he had to thank his mother's diary for pointing him in the direction of that beautiful little box. As well as Daryl Cavendish for being stupid enough to part with it.

Doing business without the ability to dominate the minds of his opponents was going to be a hard adjustment. He'd really grown used to having the Somnarca as a crutch.

But the tradeoff would be worth it, in the end. It was impossible to put a price on freedom.

"He signed the injunction just like you said," answered the other man. "Told me final decision will have to wait for a three-judge panel, but in the meantime, you'll be considered full owner of the restaurant."

"Should be enough. Not like I need to be the owner for long," Masato spoke with a shrug, before kicking open the door behind him.

He might've been the legal owner on paper, but he still lacked a few of the things that ordinarily went along with such status. Such as keys.

"And as luck may have it, Kagari's just happens to be at the perfect spot on the Ring for the unbinding ritual," he continued, now strolling into the main dining area with his henchman close behind. "What do you know? The irony's in my favor for a change."

The room in question had been completely transformed in the past twelve hours. All of the plain wooden tables and chairs had been shoved into the corners with little care, replaced with candles, animal skulls, and other totems he'd spent years procuring on the magical black market.

And all of them surrounding a series of runic symbols, copied from Shira Hasuno's diary and carved into the floorboards with painstaking care.

Masato was only going to get one shot at this. He needed to make it count.

"Now it's just a matter of waiting. The ritual needs to take place at midnight, because of course it does. These witches and their need for theatrics," he said coolly. "Oh, and one other ingredient is still missing, of course."

"What's that, boss?" responded the clueless goon.

But Masato chose not to answer with words. Instead he strode calmly over to the kitchen. Even hastily converted into the site of a mystical rite, this was still a restaurant, and so it didn't take long for him to find what he needed.

And even less for him to plunge it into his associate's stomach.

"I don't know much about fine dining myself. But I know a good chef keeps his knives exceedingly sharp," he remarked conversationally. "Supposed to be safer that way, you see. You have to use more pressure with a dull knife, increasing the chance of accidents."

Indeed, the knife came out almost as smoothly as it went in. With nothing to plug up his wound, the other man collapsed, his blood leaking onto the carved symbols in great spurts.

"A sacrifice locked my quarry away. And so a sacrifice is what's needed to bring her back," said Masato. His minion wasn't being much of a conversation partner, so it fell to him to pick up the slack. "I just hope you know this isn't personal. For that to be the case, I'd have to actually know your name."

The man didn't have a chance for any final requests or profound last words. He simply expired upon the floor of a hole-in-the-wall eatery, never to be remembered.

But that was enough. The symbols sucked in every drop of spilt blood, before beginning to glow a foreboding crimson.

"Just a little longer, my fine fellow," whispered Masato Takeuchi, lighting another cigarette and turning away from the grisly scene without a second thought. "And I shall have my dearest wish at last. After all, I believe a certain someone once said…"

He puffed out a great cloud of acrid smoke, letting it wash over his face until it stung his eyes and nose. Like many of the things he exposed himself to day in and out, he really did hate the smell of tobacco.

Not that he had any intention of letting that stop him. On any front.

"That a believing heart…is my magic."