Author's Notes: Sorry for the long update time, but you'll understand why I took a lot of time on this one soon enough! 'kmz' and I have been working on this one for the past two weeks, giving it our blood, sweat and contracts- erm, tears, so here it is! Please enjoy Chapter 4!
There are some extra translation notes at the bottom!
Magia, Pacem, Bellum Terrarum
Strength to Combat Despair
It was early morning at Mitakihara Junior High and Madoka and Sayaka had already stopped listening to their teacher, Saotome-sensei, drone on and on about Algebra. Madoka had tried to listen, she honestly did… but she honestly believed that Algebra and morning classes never went well together. Sayaka couldn't agree more. Neither of those two girls could find the patience to just sit there and feign interest in the dragging morning lesson.
With their textbooks dutifully propped up on their desks, both girls pretended to be going over the Quadratic Formula. To the eyes of others, the duo seemed like another pair of bored, tired students trying to get through Math class. Behind their textbooks, though, the two of them were engrossed in a lively telepathic conversation. Their topic for the morning – none other than the mysterious transfer student again.
"Hmm… something's different about transfer student today!" Sayaka mentally insisted to Madoka. "She usually only takes notes during History, right? But look! She's got that notebook of hers out here during Math, right now!"
"Oh, you're right." Madoka agreed, seeing Homura busy writing on her notebook while Saotome-sensei droned, "I think she was writing on her notebook during English class as well!"
"You saw that too!" Sayaka cheered, "Well then, I guess we can be pretty sure now – that girl's up to something! She's got to be!"
"Eh… that's going a bit too far, Sayaka…" Madoka replied uneasily, "But she does seem different today, I'll give you that."
"Told you so!"
"She even seems… well, how can I put this… happier. I think."
"Transfer student? Happy?" Sayaka angrily shouted into Madoka's mind, "That girl's emotionless, Madoka! She's… whoa…"
Homura had left her notebook alone for a moment, turning toward the window and glancing out towards the bright blue sky. Madoka and Sayaka couldn't believe what they saw, Sayaka especially so. There was a happy glimmer in Homura's eyes and even a small smile on her lips. Before either of the two could tell for sure, though, Homura returned to writing on her notebook with her cool, collected face.
"Did she just smile?" Sayaka gasped, her jaw dropped like an idiot. She then shook her head vigorously, drawing a few stares from her nearby classmates. "Nah, can't be…"
Madoka, on the other hand, truly believed Homura looked happier, if just for a moment.
"Something good must have happened to her." Madoka suggested to the skeptical Sayaka. She then aimed her thoughts towards Mami. "Don't you think so too, Mami-san?"
There was no reply.
"M-Mami-san?"
"Oh God! Oh God!" Sayaka panicked mentally, "Transfer student got Mami-san! That's why she's happy all of the sudden!"
She then buried her face into her hands dramatically. Judging by the bemused faces of her classmates, the were starting to think she was having a bout of caffeine withdrawal. "Mami-san… why? Whahahyy~?"
"Oh! – Sorry about that." Mami then replied apologetically, her voice smooth over the mental link. "I was… a little busy, you see. What did you need, Kaname-san? And… why are you bawling like that, Miki-san? You sound like someone died or something!"
Mami laughed softly, making Sayaka groan and melt into her desk, stressed and embarrassed. Most of her classmates then turned away evidently relieved – caffeine withdrawal was a common occurrence nowadays after all and Sayaka was well-known for going over the top.
Just as Madoka was about to explain the situation she and Sayaka were in to Mami, she felt a chill running down her spine – Homura had turned to her and Sayaka and was giving them a silent glare. Sayaka's back straightened up in an instant and Madoka blinked in confusion. Homura then simply turned around again and got back to writing as if nothing had happened. Madoka blinked.
"Um, Mami-san…" Madoka then proceeded to ask shyly, "Were you and…"
The bell then rang before Madoka could finish her question.
"Nah, it's nothing. See you around, Mami-san!"
"Yeah." Mami replied, "See ya."
The students then scrambled to go out for recess and Madoka and Sayaka prepared to go on out as well. Homura, on the other hand, still had her things scattered around. She looked like she was planning to stay in the classroom a little while longer. Sayaka smirked determinedly.
"Madoka, come with me." Sayaka whispered, taking her friend by the hand, "Let's have a look see at what transfer student's been writing, shall we?"
"Sayaka!" Madoka warned, "That's… I don't think that's a good idea."
Sayaka paid no attention to Madoka's weak protests and just dragged her less-than-enthusiastic friend along.
"Hey-yo, transfer student!" Sayaka said with a grin, secretly eying the notebook on her desk, "Whaddup?"
Homura then turned to Sayaka to retort, giving her a clearer view of what was on her notebook. Sayaka then gasped with delight – Homura was drawing. Sayaka cleared her throat then laid a hand on Homura's shoulder in approval.
"I used to think you were stuck up and snobby, transfer student… and a really freaky student… but you're alright by my books today. You're just a normal girl!"
Homura was dazed by the dramatic comment, wondering why the energetic girl who she knew disliked her was patting her shoulder approvingly. Meanwhile, Madoka took this chance to take a peek at the notebook as well. There, she saw a top-down sketch of what looked like an air field. Many tiny notes were scattered around the sketch – the most prominent ones reading 'Clark AFB' and '4th Composite Wing'. Homura then saw Madoka peering over her shoulder, so she planned her exit.
"Excuse me, you two." Homura said plainly, starting to gather her things. "Please mind your own businesses."
The two girls then backed off and watched as she left the room without another word.
"Well." Sayaka said happily, "That went better than I thought it would have."
"Sayaka…" Madoka scolded weakly, trying to find words to say. As she pondered, Madoka saw Kyuubey hop out of her bag then walk out of the classroom.
"Where are you going?" Madoka asked
"Me?" Kyuubey blinked. "I have a little appointment to keep."
The creature then hopped after the rapidly disappearing Homura, melting into the mass of students in the hallway.
Kyuubey quickly trotted along the hallway until he reached Homura. He then slowed down to match the girl's purposeful pace, saying nothing but looking at her with queer curiosity. Homura, her face once again expressionless, didn't glance down at the little white creature invisible to most people's eyes as it threaded its way around her feet. In tense, absolute silence, they turned down a corridor leading to the school's library.
Mami Tomoe who was still working in her classroom, alone as usual, when she happened to glance up and catch Homura walking resolutely down the hall.
"…Akemi-san?" Mami thought to herself with wary happiness, "And… Kyuubey?"
Mami frowned, her brows coming together. She was not too sure what she thought of the strange sight. Why was Kyuubey following someone who had tried to kill him in the past?
Homura greatly disliked Kyuubey – it was a fact that both she and the creature knew as they glared at each other across the small wooden desk in one of the empty library's private study rooms. As a matter of fact, great dislike didn't even begin to describe how much Homura loathed Kyuubey. She hated the monster, but she needed its information.
The dark-haired girl stuffed her hand into her bag and pulled out her notebook, along with one of the many formless screens from her home. She set the screen between her and the creature and let go, allowing the screen to weightlessly float up to hover near the study room's ceiling. She then opened up her notebook to the page with the sketch of Clark Air Base and pushed it across the desk towards the creature.
Kyuubey lowered his head to look at the sketch and read the many small notes crammed around it. He then turned back to Homura. "You've done your homework."
Homura didn't reply.
"Straight to the point, huh…" Kyuubey noted. He then reached for the screen with a small white pall. "Very well, then. Let's begin."
Homura watched the screen flicker with static before stabilizing into a dim picture of the real Clark Air Base in December 8, 1941.
Act II – Post Pearl Harbor
"The zero-hour has arrived. I expect every Filipino – man and woman – to do his duty. We have pledged our honor to stand by the United States and we shall not fail her, happen what may."
The determined words of the Philippine President, Manuel Quezon, was broadcast by radio stations all over the Philippines that late, bright Monday morning. As soon as his desperate call to arms ended, the program jumped to grim NBC news updates on the situation at the recently-attacked Pearl Harbor, Roosevelt's passionate speech to the American Congress adamantly calling for a formal declaration of war with the Empire of Japan and rumors that Japanese bombers were headed for the Philippine islands next.
"What a load of bullcrap!" An American military policeman manning the radio loudly groaned from his table in the bamboo-roofed mess hall. Irritated, he banged his hand on the set as if it were broken. "Hey, hey, I tuned in to the entertainment station – where's the goddamned music? I didn't tune in here to listen to Quezon and Roosevelt soil their trousers, ha!"
The mess hall then burst into bouts of laughter. The American servicemen clustered in little groups around the open-aired room. Most of them were pilots and garrison soldiers still nursing hangovers from the previous night, jeering as if the series of emergency broadcasts were a comedy skit. Every man there thought that war with Japan was some sort of joke.
A Filipino mechanic, clad in his khaki work shirt and trousers and a matching baseball cap marked with the USAFFE roundel, and his daughter, wearing simple buttoned dress and an olive green skirt and a leather stringed scapular around her neck, approached the hall. Even from afar, the two could hear the Americans' swear-peppered mockery of the broadcast but neither of them really minded. This was, for them, a rather typical occurrence so they just walked on by.
The father and daughter got trays and plates from a counter then scooped up steamed rice for themselves from a large metal pot. They then found themselves seats at the far end of the hall, a good distance away from the rowdy fun near the radio in the middle. Finally, music began playing on the hall's radio set, much to the delight of the Americans.
"The Americans seem lively today." The mechanic told his daughter in Filipino in his amused voice, "Do you think they somehow got Christmas lechon* brought in from town, Ligaya?"
"Nah, that can't be it." Ligaya smiled, speaking in Filipino as well, "If the lechon was already here, Mr. MP over there would have the signal officers announce it all over the base!"
The father and daughter laughed quietly. Ligaya covered her mouth, scrunching up in her chair to hide her giggles. Her father, on the other hand, openly laughed with his mouth wide open, showing off the missing molar on the top row of his teeth. Affectionately, Ligaya's father ruffled his daughter's curly black hair.
"Let's pray." The mechanic said, putting his hands together and closing his eyes solemnly. His daughter followed suit. "Bless us o Lord and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive through thine bounty, through Christ, our Lord…"
"Amen!" Ligaya finished happily, "Let's eat!"
Ligaya then turned to the plates of steamed rice they had brought from the pot while the father took out their morning food rations – a tin can of corned beef and green peas, one for each of them. The mechanic expertly pried the cans open with a pocket knife then unceremoniously dumped their contents over their rice.
"Corned beef and peas again?" Ligaya groaned, disappointed, "You know, dad, some lechon does sound pretty appetizing right now…"
"Well, that's the standard-issue base food for you, anak*." Her father sighed, shrugging, "But…"
He then took a small can out of the pocket of his trousers, wearing a wide smile on his face as he hid the label from his daughter.
"Payday was yesterday for me, so I got you something special today. Look, orange juice!"
Ligaya's dark brown eyes brightened up immediately.
"Thank you!"
"It's the least I can do for you, anak." The mechanic said happily, poking a hole into the top of the juice can with his pocket knife, "After all, I am dragging you with me to work everyday… there's nobody to look after you back in Batangas, after all."
"Don't worry about me, itay*." Ligaya said between small sips, savoring every sip she took from the juice can "I'm happy here at the base. I love watching the planes fly and everything – they're all up in the sky because of all the work you put into them. It makes me feel proud, really!"
"I'm glad to know someone appreciates my handiwork." Her father wearily snickered, "Those drunk fighter pilots over making asses of themselves take it all for granted. I just hope the Fortress flyboys coming in from Nichols are different."
"Fortress?"
Ligaya's father opened his mouth, hoping to reply, but spotted a small line of planes coming in a thin line, one after the other, in from the distance – B-17 Flying Fortresses from Nichols Air Base. They had come to Clark to refuel and to re-arm for a photo-reconnaissance mission over Japanese-controlled Taiwan later in the afternoon.
"We ought to eat quick, Ligaya." The mechanic advised, avidly digging into his food, "Can't keep all those planes waiting! You want to watch me work on them today, right?"
Ligaya nodded understandingly and the two of them ate as fast as they could move their forks and spoons with a comfortable silence between them. Once they finished, they set their plates and trays aside for the kitchen staff and walked briskly through a dirt road cutting through the main base complex, headed for the tarmac right outside main hangar to where the Fortresses would be parked. Ligaya, sipping peacefully at her orange juice, could see the American bomber planes begin to descend and turned to her father smiling. Her father usually got excited about working on new planes aside from the Peashooters usually stationed at Clark. His face would flush and he would widely grin, showing off his missing molar, as he serviced the visiting planes with utmost fascination.
Instead, when she looked up, Ligaya saw her father's curiously blank, pale face. His wide, dilating eyes weren't fixed on the incoming Fortresses but far up into the sky. They were hazy, as if he wasn't able to see. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. Belatedly, her father noticed and jerkily managed to fish a small rag out of his pocket and wipe his sweat.
"Dad?" Like a child, Ligaya carefully tugged at the sleeve of her father's shirt. "… Is something wrong?"
Her father suddenly blinked. His face returned to its normal color and his eyes managed to focus on his worried daughter, tugging at his sleeve.
"Nah…" the mechanic slowly assured. "It's just… the sun's really bright today, isn't it?"
With an attempt at a smile, her father continued to walk down to the tarmac, his pace slower than before and his shoes dragging on the dirt road more often than usual. She hurried to catch up with her father, watching him carefully should he start to act strange again. The father and daughter then passed by a military policeman posted near the hangar – an acquaintance of theirs. He too was a Filipino who had come from Batangas so they often greeted him other or stopped to chat whenever they crossed paths. They nodded to him respectfully, but instead of his usual lively 'Ala eh, kabayan*!', he did not turn to them or even reply. His eyes were just fixed upwards at the sky.
"Why did I come here…?" He muttered in Filipino. His voice was curiously empty, "I shouldn't have signed up…"
Ligaya and her father looked at each other, apprehensive and a little bit frightened. Without a word, they carried on down to the tarmac where the Fortresses were now neatly lined up.
Ligaya's father wasn't the only worker in the base who had scrambled to the tarmac to service the bombers. There was a large crew of maintenance workers posted in the base, enough to refuel the bomber squadron and fit them with equipment within the hour. But like the military policeman acquaintance, the crew seemed to have stopped halfway to look up to the skies, their wide eyes glazed over and sweat rolling down their brows.
It wasn't only the maintenance crew acting strangely – the rest of the garrison, soldiers and officers, seemed to be caught in the same daze. The rancorous sounds of the American pilots back in the mess hall had simply died away – leaving only the empty sounds of cheery brass-band music.
"What's going on here?" Ligaya's father near shouted. He shook a fellow maintenance worker. "Hoy! Hoy! Aren't we supposed to be servicing these birds for a mission?"
Slowly, the maintenance worker's head lolled down and turned to Ligaya's slowly panicking father, staring blankly at him.
"It's too late for that…" The maintenance worker said in the same curiously empty voice as the military policeman's. "Look up… you'll understand why."
With dread, they looked up to the clear blue sky.
Planes. Japanese planes. Many long lines of planes flew in V-formations in a larger number than the ones they were used to seeing. Over a hundred Japanese planes, a mix of fighters and tactical bombers, roared from afar and were headed straight for Clark Air Base, silent as everyone seemed to be looking up in melancholic, unearthly awe. The interceptor planes, the anti-aircraft guns… all silent.
Ligaya's eyes went wide. The treasured can of orange juice slipped through her fingers and hit the ground, its loud sound echoing through the still base.
"Punyeta*! WAKE UP!" The mechanic ordered firmly, finding his voice again with grim determination. "It's the Japanese, for crying out loud! Sound the alarms! Get everyone ready to fight!"
No matter what Ligaya or her father did or how desperately they pleaded, the maintenance worker wouldn't budge or acknowledge them. Ligaya and her father ran around, trying to snap the nearby workers out of their daze somehow but to no avail. They realized with sinking fear that nobody else would pay them any heed either.
Her father paused, giving up on rallying the dazed people together staring strangely into the sky.
"Ligaya, come with me." The father determinedly whispered, "We'll sound that alarm ourselves!"
"But… nobody's paying attention to us now! Do you think the alarm would work on them?" Ligaya protested as her father seized her hand and dragging her away.
"We have to try, don't we?"
"Th… the communications shack!" She suddenly shouted, an idea running through her mind, "We can radio Manila for help there!"
Her father suddenly smiled. "Good idea as always, Ligaya! Let's go, then!"
The two of them then ran for their lives towards the little, inconspicuous shack tucked at the very end of the main dirt road. Ligaya looked wildly over her shoulder and saw the planes come nearer and nearer. She shouted for the others to run and take cover but was horrified by how nobody would even bother to move. The first line of planes, brand new Mitsubishi Zeroes swooped down ahead of the rest and strafed at the grounded USAFFE planes and their crew. All the while, nobody would move. With a cry, Ligaya turned away as explosions rocked the tarmac and as dozens of people were maimed by machine gun rounds or blown to bits by light bombs.
"What's happening to everyone, dad?" She sobbed, truly frightened.
"I don't know, anak… I really don't know… just stay close to me! We'll get help!"
Panting and heaving, they reached the communications shack and threw themselves inside to take cover from the rampaging Zeroes. Scrambling back up, they found an American signal officer slumped over his seat. There was a pool of blood forming beneath him and the barrel of the revolver in his limp hand was still smoking.
Ligaya nearly cried out but clamped her mouth down, resolving to be as strong as her father who removed the officer's revolver, set it lightly on the table and gently lowered the corpse to the ground. She determinedly stared down at the floor, but not before a strange red mark on his neck, twisted and complex, caught her eye. Before she could tell her father about it, he pushed away the bloodied chair, set his cap on the radio table and stood before the base's radio to turn it on.
"Ligaya…" Her father called, radio headset over his ears, interrupting her fearful thoughts about the strange mark, "See that lever over there by the door? Please pull it – that'll sound the alarm."
Ligaya took a deep breath and yanked down on the metallic lever, sounding the air raid alarms that should have gone off many minutes ago. The loud, wailing sound filled the base but it did not make a difference. Nobody ran towards the interceptor planes. Nobody burst into the communications shack demanding for answers. Nobody came to man the anti-aircraft guns.
The father and daughter were desperately losing hope. The base's radio transmission functions were hampered as the sound of static overriding Ligaya's father's calls for help. They managed to hear choppy messages from other air bases over the archipelago, all reporting Japanese air strikes and requesting aid as well. And still, even with the wailing alarm sounding away, nobody else at the base stirred.
"I don't understand!" The mechanic cried, throwing the headset onto the floor in frustration. "Is it really going to end like this?"
He threw his hands up to the air and rubbed his temples. Suddenly, he groaned sadly and seemed to stiffen. His expression slipped back into blank anguish, just like what had happened to him earlier.
There was a red mark on his neck.
Her father's hand dropped and inched towards the revolver sitting on the table. With a cry, Ligaya knocked the revolver onto the floor and swung her arms around her father.
"Dad!" Ligaya shouted in frantic fear, "Get a hold of yourself! We shouldn't give up yet! We can't give up!"
When Ligaya looked up, tears welling up in her eyes, the red mark had disappeared. Her desperate words had somehow gotten through to him. Her father blinked and the stillness in his body faded away, replaced by taunt readiness.
"You're right, Ligaya." The father agreed, fierce determination replacing his anguish. "We shouldn't give up now… there's still something we can do."
His eyes found the USAFFE roundel patched onto his cap on the table and his eyes sharpened.
"Ligaya." He said as he picked up his cap, "Go back to the mess hall and get those fighter pilots up on their feet! Their Peashooters should be up in the sky!"
Ligaya, seeing her father reinvigorated, joyously grinned. "Understood!"
"Take these." Her father said, pressing his pocket knife and a small rosary into his daughter's hands. He then picked up the revolver, still loaded with five shots, off the floor. "Drag those Americans into the Peashooters yourself if you have to!"
"Yeah!" Ligaya nodded, preparing to head off before hesitating. "What about you, dad? What are you going to do?"
"Take a leap of faith." He replied, almost cheerful, "I'm taking a Peashooter to the sky."
"Dad!" Ligaya quickly protested, turning back around. "Do you even know how to fly those things?"
"I know those Peashooters better than any pilot in the Philippines, Ligaya. The engine, the rudders, the Browning gun… I've assembled them, repaired them and tended to them all. I just need to trust in the machine and to trust in myself!"
"But…!"
"And I want you to trust in me, Ligaya. I promise, I'll come back to you!" Her father smiled, ruffling her hair. "Now get those flyboys off their lazy asses. I don't want to greet our guests by myself!"
With a last pat on Ligaya's head, he ran off to the nearest hangar.
Trust her father. Ligaya gripped the pocket knife and the rosary in her hands and set them close to her pounding heart. Trust in him and his abilities…
Her father, Nicanor de la Cruz, was the best mechanic in Clark and arguably in the entire Philippine archipelago. Though he had only finished Elementary and a year of High School before he was forced to drop out, he had a knack for learning and tinkering with the inner workings of machines and gradually earned a reputation for being able to fix nearly anything, always with a broad smile of confidence.
It was why he was the mechanic the pilots often turned to when they wanted their planes checked. And what sort of a mechanic wouldn't know how the planes he worked on worked? Surely, she could trust him. He always kept his promises. Always.
She could trust him. She could trust him. She would trust him.
She kept repeating this to herself as she ran back to the mess hall. Though the dazed American pilots still gathered around the hall's radio ignored her pleas and her tugging, she continued to repeat those words in her head. As she held on to her rosary, she told herself that she would just have to believe in him and believe that God would deliver them from this hardship. After all, faith was all she had. However…
"Faith won't be enough to save him, you know."
There, seated atop the mess hall's radio set, was a small white—creature—with soft white ears, soft white skin an a soft little smile, watching Ligaya with its round, little red eyes.
"Your father is going to die, and so will everyone here in the base."
Ligaya's hands gripped the knife and the rosary so firmly that it almost stung.
"Why?" she demanded, shakily pointing the knife at the creature's round face, "Tell me, why?"
The second wave of Japanese planes, a cloud of Mitsubishi G4M medium bombers, then started unleashing their payload over the already devastated base, their heavier bombs setting planes and buildings near the mess hall ablaze. Ligaya fell to her knees in fright, but still had the knife pointed at the creature. The creature, however, just sat atop the radio without any hint of fear as walls of flame and explosions illuminated its face.
"There are about a hundred planes flying over Clark, Binibining* Ligaya." The creature explained, watching as a single P-26 Peashooter roared into life off the base's smoldering tarmac, "The odds are not in his favor and time is not on his side. Everyone else here at the base is under a Witch's kiss, so isn't it only logical to assume…"
Ligaya gasped.
"You!" She cried, standing upright again and leaping forward to hold the knife at the creature's neck. "You have the pilots – the garrison – under your ungodly spell! Release them, you Judas!"
"Oh?" The creature asked, puzzled, "How can I release them if I'm not the one holding them hostage? Silly girl."
As the creature shook its head, Ligaya's surroundings started to change.
The air wavered unsteadily for an instant, colors running together and shapes and edges warping. The flames and explosions became bright and dull and everything around her started to look less real. Her eyes were strained by the bizarre sight, making her blink rapidly. When her sight stabilized, she no longer stood in the mess hall and the wooden floor she had stood on had become like yellowed parchment paper filled with flowery symbols and runes. Uncanny newspapers, still strung together as they would have come out of a printing press, were also covered in those symbols and countless lines of these newspapers weaved together to cover the sky like festival banners.
A giant eraser made of clay began to materialize, growing lead arms and lead legs and beady pencil-drawn eyes that fuzzed like in an old motion picture. The eraser turned to Ligaya and the creature and took large lumbering steps towards them, drawing thick dark lines on the yellowed paper beneath it. Ligaya fell back and screamed in horror, but the strange white creature just watched the approaching eraser and the strange, papery surroundings with odd interest.
Countless little white crumpled papers in the shape of eggs, all having funny beards and gaping mouths then came up behind the eraser, spinning around in mid air as they encircled Ligaya and the creature.
"This has got to be a dream…" Ligaya breathed heavily. The crumpled papers piled themselves on top of each other like brick walls and gave Ligaya savage grins. The twisted clay eraser gave a low, low laugh and smiled at Ligaya with cruel glee. "It's a dream… just a dream – it has to be!"
Desperately she clamped her arms around her head and turned away from the approaching mass of bizarre objects.
"It's all a dream, and I'll wake up!"
"This is not a dream." The white creature then firmly corrected, "You, Bb. De la Cruz, are in a Witch's barrier. That eraser coming our way is a Familiar. And, if you would look further out - there's the Witch."
Ligaya hesitantly looked up.
Between the cracks of her shaking fingers, Ligaya spotted a paper crane, its wings frilly and frayed, with a bloody, razor-sharp beak and serrated yellow talons flying and sweeping clumsily through the newspapers lines suspended in the sky. Wherever it flew, it laid crumpled white papers that fell to the parchment floor, bounced once or twice before spinning round to join their kin.
Ligaya turned from the crane to face the crumpled paper balls with her knife, but there were too many of them to count. The closest paper balls formed a circle and closed in on Ligaya and the incapacitated pilots.
"As long as this barrier exists," The white creature evenly said, "Clark will stand still and all these men will stay in this state… and your father will fly alone."
"How do I— how do I—stop—break this thing?" Ligaya frantically asked, trying to slash at a dancing crumpled ball of paper that was spinning too close for comfort.
"Defeat the Witch, naturally! The barrier will break and everything will return to normal!"
"Defeat that?" Ligaya stared up at the crane, now perched upside down from the newspapers in the sky. "I… I can't do that…!"
"Of course you can!" The creature said, "You have the potential to defeat this Witch without a problem."
"Really? How!" As the crumpled balls inched closer and closer, Ligaya became more desperate. "Tell me now!"
"It's simple! All you have to do is sign a contract with me, and become a—"
Before Kyuubey could finish, the crisp sound of a match striking against a matchbox resounded throughout the barrier. Then, moments later, a glass Coca Cola bottle filled with gasoline and stuffed with ignited parchment flew and struck the clay eraser. The glass broke and the flaming gasoline spread, engulfing the eraser and many of the small paper balls dancing near it in flame. They dropped to the floor scorched.
Ligaya looked around to find where the firebomb had come from. Then, walking down where the Clark's main dirt road used to be was a tall American girl in her early twenties with a cigarette in her mouth, her long brown hair tied into a high ponytail. The handles of a baseball bat and a fire ax stuck out of a brown knapsack that hung from her shoulders and an M1911 pistol sat holstered by her hip.
"I'll take it from here, Kyuubey." The American then confidently smiled, spitting out her cigarette and stomping it out. She then drew out the baseball bat and rushed at the disoriented paper balls. With quick whacks from her bat, the crumpled paper balls shattered and bled black ink that dirtied the parchment ground.
The giant eraser, with a few small embers still burning all over its body, then started to stir again and struggled to get back up on its lead feet. The American noticed this then drew the red paint-tipped fire ax from her bag and chopped off the eraser's legs then its arms. With every swing of the ax, the eraser shrieked, its penciled eyes widening in grotesque pain. Now that the eraser was crippled, the American walked up to the eraser's head that lay vulnerable on the parchment floor. She lifted up the fire ax as high as she could like an executioner and let it drop. The head of the clay eraser broke into two and it abruptly fell silent.
Fearful of their new opponent, the paper balls retreated deeper into the paper barrier, seeking the protection of the paper crane, still perched upside down from the newspapers. Ligaya watched the American girl drew her pistol and kneel to steady her hands, still shaky from swinging the bat and the ax. She hoping to shoot at her retreating foes. But suddenly, the tall American girl lowered her gun and returned it to the holster muttering, "Not worth it."
The American stood up, patted the dust from her skirt, lit another match and a new cigarette then took a big puff before turning to Ligaya who looked at her with unblushing amazement. The American girl glanced at the shocked Filipina girl and the incapacitated pilots gathered around the radio, nodded at the white creature and smiled, satisfied that the Witch's minions had not harmed them.
"Are you alright?" She asked Ligaya in English.
"Fine." Ligaya managed to reply in heavily accented English. "Pero… but… pilots! Base! Japanese everywhere!"
"I can speak in Filipino too." The American girl assured, now talking in Ligaya's native tongue, albeit a little bit stiffly. "The name's Audrey Burnham – glad to make your acquaintance."
"Ligaya de la Cruz." Ligaya replied, "But – the base is in danger!"
"I know what's going on here in the Air Base – and I know about the Witch too. It has to be defeated, right?"
"Can you do that?" Ligaya asked, her amazement growing tenfold.
"Of course, Miss Audrey can. She's a Puella Magi, after all." The little white creature patiently explained in its high, little voice.
"Puella… Magi…" Ligaya repeated softly
This Audrey girl smiled at Ligaya's blank looks of confusion mixed with fascination. She turned her wrist to show Ligaya a small gold ring and an amber gem mounted in the middle and said, "This is a Soul Gem. Only Puella Magi have them. Our job – to beat the living daylights out of Witches like that one over there!"
The American raised up her ring. The ring suddenly melted off her finger and became an oval, glowing amber gem cased delicately in gold and it surrounded Audrey in blinding, bright amber light. Wrapped warmly by the light, the clothes of the American girl changed before Ligaya's eyes from the ground up. High-heeled brown leather boots replaced her low-cut shoes. Her long, breezy travelling skirt turned into a shorter amber skirt. Her proper hacienda-styled blouse became a military jacket in cream, similar to a US Cavalry officer's. Lacy white gloves covered her bare hands and a wide ranger's hat gently rested atop her brown hair. Finally, a golden cloth neckerchief wrapped loosely over her shoulders like a scarf. The amber light faded away and became a delicate golden necklace with a shining amber pendant which Audrey chained around her neck.
"Alright!" The American said with a wink, "Just give me a minute here – it'll be over before you know it!"
Carelessly, she pulled off the cloth neckerchief and swung it in front of her. Two dozen 2-inch medium mortars loaded with their large, unwieldy-looking 'Toffee Apple' shells slammed onto the parchment ground, displacing runes and symbols. With a snap of her fingers, the battery of mortars fired and the large bombs pierced through the newspapers hanging from the sky and rained all over the remaining paper balls and the paper crane, knocking the crane out of its upside down perch. Before it hit the ground, the crane twisted and flew at top speed towards Audrey seeking revenge.
Unafraid, Audrey waved the cloth again, replacing the mortars with 20mm anti-aircraft guns that pounded the approaching crane with clouds of black shrapnel. Despite the heavy bombardment, the blackened crane, its body lacerated and its black ink-blood spilling all over the paper ground, managed to withstand the punishment Audrey had dished out. It closed in on Audrey and prepared to swipe at her with its serrated talons.
"No touching, please!" Audrey taunted as she threw her neckerchief into the air. What appeared now was a single 57mm anti-tank gun aimed directly at the heart of the paper crane. With one hand, she pulled the trigger, the 57mm shell tore easily through the paper crane, while catching her cloth with the other. Smiling, she watched the crane explode into a million shreds of burnt paper.
A peculiar black object, a Grief Seed, then dropped onto the paper floor.
"That was close…" Audrey sighed, quickly wiping her brow as she picked it up. The barrier then crumbled, colors hazing and twisting again. In a moment's time, they were all back in Clark's mess hall. Audrey's clothes returned to the clothes she had been wearing before and restored her Soul Gem into it's ring form. Seeing the fascination in Ligaya's wide brown eyes, Audrey gave Ligaya a thumbs up.
The pilots, a little groggy from their unnatural sleep, were rudely awoken by the sight of Japanese bombers leveling their airbase and the deafening sound of the air raid siren that had been blaring for almost half an hour.
"Good God!" One of them cried, stumbling out of his chair, "What the hell is going on?"
Apparently, the other soldiers of the garrison had woken up as well. Anti-aircraft guns and machine guns of Clark's AA regiment finally started to shoot back at the Japanese planes. Ligaya dared to look in the sky and saw a P-26 Peashooter, the one her father had hastily decided to pilot, disrupting the Japanese assault, shooting down one then two Zeroes and a G4M medium bomber. She felt tears of heavy relief welling in her eyes.
While Audrey fought the Witch in her barrier, A patrol squadron of five American P-40 Warhawks had found their way to Clark and had supported the lone Peashooter before the battle was joined. Their unexpected intrusion into enemy lines had drawn the Japanese squadron's attention away from the grounded planes, sparing a dozen or so Peashooters from dishonorable deaths. Their delaying tactics had cost the Japanese planes a good deal of their fuel too, and were forced to retreat and keep what fuel they had left for the return trip. Through her tears, Ligaya could see the bulk of the Japanese planes turning around – it was the perfect chance for a counterattack.
"Up and at em, soldiers!" Audrey then cried, rousing the other pilots from their daze, "Give those pesky Japs a good ole spanking from Uncle Sam!"
The situation was too urgent for any pilot to stop and ask how a pretty, young American woman had managed to get onto the base. The pilots scrambled off their chairs and tried to find themselves working planes to fly. The remaining twelve Peashooters roared in concert and took to the skies, chasing after the retreating Zeroes and G4M's under the cover of Clark's scattered flak. Together, the rag-tag fleet of American interceptor planes and the AA regiment shot down an eighth of their number.
Ligaya clapped her hands together in prayer and silently thanked God and silently thanked her father. Lastly, she managed to choke out a squeaky, teary thank you to the grinning American girl.
Pyrrhic as it was, what would have been a crushing total defeat had been turned into a victory.
To Be Continued
Episode 5 Preview:
"The Philippine Archipelago
Known to many as the Pearl of the Orient
This is the land my father and I love
Peaceful and serene, she was not prepared for war
But, come what may, by the grace of God
We choose to fight."
-Ligaya De la Cruz-
Extra Translation Notes:
Lechon* - A favorite Filipino dish. A whole pig roasted, seasoned or not, over a fire until deliciously toasty. A treat for meat eaters (like me) and a horror for vegans. Commonly served for celebrations like Christmas. Trust me - it's tasty!
Anak* - The Filipino term for 'child'. When said before or after a sentence, it can become a form of endearment when addressing one's child.
Itay* - The more casual Filipino term for 'father'. The more formal ones are either 'tatay' or 'ama'. Can also become a form of endearment when added to sentences when addressing one's father.
Ala eh, kabayan!* - A Filipino expression from the Batangas region from where Ligaya and her father are originally from. Can mean a variety of things ranging from 'oh!' to 'really?'. 'Kabayan' means 'fellow countryman' or a greeting for a neighbor or can also be loosely used to call friends.
Punyeta* - A Spanish insult meaning 'bitch' or 'son of a bitch' depending on the target of the insult, properly spelled as Puñeta. It was adopted (unofficially) into the Filipino insult vocabulary as 'Punyeta' and can be used to desperately address someone. Use responsibly.
Binibini* - Not to be confused with Misaka Mikoto. The Filipino honorific signifying 'young lady' or 'little miss' or the French 'mademoiselle'. When paired with a noun, it becomes 'binibining' (ex. Binibining De la Cruz). Shortened, it becomes 'Bb.' (ex. Bb. De la Cruz)