Nineteen
"Y'know—" she headbutts Maria in the chin, take that! Maria retreats a few steps, teeth bared, yikes—"you know, I always thought you were so cool in battle."
Maria tosses her head, showing off her impeccable hairdo, "Not Tsubasa?"
She eyes Maria's footing, judges it solid, and goes in for a tackle anyway. "N-Nope!" Maria slithers out of her reach, proving that her flexibility remains undiminished. "I mean—" she takes a breath—"I mean, she is cool, but you…it's your personality that shines through." She winces at the kick that Maria lands on her left knee.
"Hmm, yeah, I see what you mean." Now it's Hibiki's turn to evade a tackle, but Maria catches an elbow and twirls Hibiki into a chokehold. Such fluidity! Such force!
It's a bit too forceful. Maria's edging towards viciousness, now. "I give!"
Maria lets go. "Convinced yet?" she asks, tone daring her to say no.
"Weeeell, technically," she pointedly dusts herself off, "I could've broken that hold easily. I'm the tank of the team; you're meant to rely on your maneuverability to bleed away your opponents' stamina." She breaks into a smile at Maria's exasperated, borderline-agitated scoff. "Also…there's the fact that I'm not actually evaluating you."
"What!"
"'Cause I'm, you know—biased in a whole bunch of ways, and Genjuurou says I pull my punches too much."
"Yes," Maria's scowl smooths out, turning thoughtful. "Yes, I'd noticed that. Otherwise, I would have been just a walking bruise at this point."
"I couldn't do that to my precious friend. I help people," she tells Maria. Her hands flex. Once I started helping, I couldn't stop. Even though it was breaking me my relationship with Miku. I really did try, I swear. "I don't ever want to hurt you." Judging by Maria's sudden stillness, her tone came out more serious than she'd meant. She waves her hands, rushing to say, "Ah, don't mind me! I'm just, just—"
"Have some water, Hibiki, and then you can tell me what's on your mind."
She says, following Maria, "I'm fine, really." She accepts her water bottle but fiddles with the cap instead of drinking from it. She stares hard at the opposite corner of the practice room; she had been managing so well! Why did she have to take an idle tease so seriously?
What makes this attempt different?
What will make it stick?
Leave it to Dr. Yamanaka to ask the hard questions. Hard, pesky questions that wouldn't leave her alone for long. That's the point of therapy, of course, but she wishes it didn't hurt so much. She wishes she were stronger, less selfish, not broken, not—
Maria's hand on her shoulder startles her back into the present. "Drink, Hibiki," Maria orders gently, her other hand nudging the water bottle.
She does, and she also leans into the sideways hug that Maria offers. "Genjuurou's making me go to therapy," she finally explains. She rolls the bottle back and forth in her hands. "I've been spending too much time thinking about the past, I guess."
"I see."
"Yeah."
"…I know Kirika was the most vocal about hating that pacifist side of you, but it used to bother me so much, too."
She turns to look at Maria, eyes wide. "I don't remember you ever saying anything, though?"
Sitting down and patting the space beside her, Maria says, "Only because I didn't want anyone looking closely at my feelings. I don't know who Serena would've been, had she been able to grow up. I don't like to think about what kind of person I could have been, before.
"More than those what-ifs, though, I appreciated that you didn't look at me as someone to be put down. It irritated me, yet it was a balm against some of my heart's ragged edges."
The spark of hurt in her chest unravels. Now, she understands.
She pulls Maria into another hug. This, this is what has driven her for so long: the desire to connect, to be friends. This is what she missed every other time she tried to step back from the Second Division. When she thought she so desperately wanted to "save" people, what she really sought were ties to the world, to other human beings. That's why she couldn't ever stop helping.
Curses, imagined and real, plagued her so much that she confused herself, missed the forest for the trees; she isn't looking to save the world, but that doesn't mean she's looking to selfishly save only herself.
"That's right, Hibiki," whispers Maria. "Crying is not shameful. Taking care of yourself isn't inherently selfish."
"Thanks, Maria."
"You're my friend, too, Hibiki."
Whatever Finé ends up telling Maria, it's going to hurt her. Hibiki resolves to gather their friends for a reunion, an affirmation of their bonds, a celebration of the lives they've built.
All the curses in the world won't bring down her friends.
This is what Hibiki lives for. This is why her retirement will stick.
[***]
Maria's softness recedes once her actual evaluators show up, but the barely-suppressed undercurrent of rage has also receded.
That's good. Villain or otherwise, Finé won't go easy on Maria, and uncontrolled anger would just hinder Maria. Luckily for everyone, Maria doesn't have the temper that Chris has.
As she heads to Genjuurou's office, she finds herself so much lighter than she'd been just that morning.
Sometimes, all you need is a good spar with a good friend to work out those messy emotions.
[***]
Housework is so much more tolerable when she has someone to talk with while she deals with the mountain of freshly washed dishes that need to be reshelved. Carol's such a good sport, listening without complaint to her ramble about helping Tsubasa at her flower shop a couple days ago.
"—and can you believe someone ordered enough flowers to fill an office? I mean, it was a small office, but also by 'fill' I mean, 'flowers in every cubic centimeter'! Almost all the flowers in the truck were for that delivery alone!" She reshuffles the mugs on the shelf to make room for another one. There are romantic gestures, and then there are…
Carol, doing her homework at the kitchen table, says, "That's not practical. How is the person supposed to work when their office has been hijacked by flowers? And what are you supposed to do with so many flowers, anyway? Are you supposed to take all of them home? Aren't they just going to wilt, anyway?"
"Right?! But Tsubasa said it was a 'romantic gesture,' which I guess makes sense if your significant other is someone like Maria. Uh! Don't tell Tsubasa I said that. Or Maria!" After all, Maria had, literally just this morning, helped pull Hibiki out of some serious gloom.
"Sure," Carol says agreeably. "I won't tell your friends that you think they're weird—if you let me stay up past bedtime next Thursday."
Or not so agreeably. "You are such a little terror, Carol. Why do you want to stay up past your bedtime and for how long?" Silence from Carol prompts her to turn around; Carol has this annoying habit of pretending she didn't hear something when it inconveniences her in some way. Making eye contact with Carol, she says in a reasonably stern voice, "You know I'm not going to just blindly agree without the relevant details."
"Whatever." Blushing and breaking eye contact, Carol mutters, "There's a rerun of Puella Magi Madoka Magica."
She pulls out her phone to look up the show. Carol's eleven, right? The show looks cute, but this says it's rated 13+, so what could—her brain screeches to a halt when Carol says, arms crossed and voice petulant, "Elfnein's parents let her stay up when she wants to."
Through the white static comes the electrifying thought: That means she thinks of me as her parent, right? Right?!
Blushing bright red, she blurts, "We just established they're weird, okay?!"
Carol stares at her, entirely judgmental and unaware of what she's revealed.
For the record: she doesn't think Tsubasa and Maria are weird, necessarily. Tsubasa spent over three-fourths of her life shackled to duty. How did she adjust so easily, so seamlessly into civilian life when she knew next to nothing about what a normal life even looks like? As for Maria, well, someone who impersonates a dead person certainly can't be called normal. Right? But that doesn't make them weird.
Well, at least, they aren't any weirder than Chris, or Kirika and Shirabe, or—heck—even herself and Miku!
Especially herself. (Look at her—she's spiraling, babbling nonsense, avoiding the revelation Carol just casually tossed out.) Which, logically, means that Tsubasa and Maria are basically normal. Right, right.
She takes a deep breath. Exhales. Breathes in again. Grabs a towel to wipe her sweaty face.
"…Let's revisit this tomorrow, okay?"
"It's not a big deal," Carol grumbles. Sweet, oblivious, emotionally stunted (not stunted, don't say that about your daughter!) Carol.
Falling back on actual logic, she says, "The show you want to watch is rated 13+. You, miss, are eleven. Even if that's fine, Thursday is a school night. In fact, I should consult Miku."
Carol pouts but subsides in the face of logical arguments.
This parenting stuff is hard.
And yet.
They're taming each other, Carol and her. Forming ties, becoming parent and child, settling into each other's lives. This is another connection.
Hibiki Tachibana is firmly rooted in the world. She has been a hero. She can be, she is a family person. She can retire and not go crazy. She can step back and trust that other people will step up to keep the world running.
She turns back to arranging their dishware. She's going to go with whatever Miku decides.
[***]
"Well, it's on Netflix, so we can just let her watch it over the weekend. Let's watch a few episodes ourselves so we can make an informed decision, alright?"
"Sure! It has a solid audience rating, so this should be fun!"
[several hours later]
"Well. That was…"
"Yeah. That's messed up."
"Did Carol say she wants to rewatch?"
"Uh, she only said it's a rerun."
"…I think she can handle it."
"Really? I'm tearing up, you know."
"Hibiki, you're so precious."
"Are you saying Carol isn't?"
"I'm saying Carol would get along with Kyubey."
"Miku!"
a/n:
Is this a hot-take on Hibiki's character? dunno. Is it more than a year since I updated? uhhh dunno. Happy New Year to everyone! I hope you're safe, happy, in a good place!
