Nemo and Matama walked side by side down the street of a more industrial area of Sendai in their civilian forms.
As they approached their destination, Nemo's teal eyes darted warily from shadow to shadow, her body tense and alert for any sign of danger. She had insisted they come in their civilian forms to avoid drawing attention, but now she almost wished they had portaled in closer.
The abandoned workshop loomed before them, a silhouette against the deepening twilight sky.
A tall chain-link fence surrounded the property, topped with rusted barbed wire that glinted dully in the fading light. The gate was secured with a heavy padlock and chain, its weathered surface marred by scratches and dents. Beyond the fence, weeds and tall grass could be seen poking up through the dirt, but the building looked far less unkempt than it should be, at least if you gave it more than a passing glance.
Matama pressed close to the fence, her fingers curling around the cold metal links as she peered through at the forbidding structure. Her teal eyes widened as she took in the derelict scene.
"Nemo," she whispered, her voice tight with apprehension, "is this really the place? It looks completely abandoned."
Nemo nodded grimly, her gaze fixed on the workshop as she scanned for any sign of life or movement. "This is it," she confirmed in a low voice. "Baiser's hideout. The perfect cover - who would think to look for a powerful magical girl in a dump like this? Besides, it looks a lot better on the inside actually."
Matama bit her lip, her brow furrowing as she glanced nervously over her shoulder. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. "What if it's a trap? What if Enorme finds out we're here?"
Nemo reached out and squeezed Matama's hand reassuringly, her shark toothed grin softening into a gentle smile. "Hey, it's going to be okay. As far as Enorme knows we are just scouting the enemy so we can hammer them."
Nemo's words did little to quell the anxiety churning in Matama's stomach. She swallowed hard, her throat dry as she nodded reluctantly. "Okay," she whispered, "let's do this."
The two girls approached the gate cautiously, their footsteps barely audible on the cracked pavement. Nemo reached out, her slender fingers wrapping around the heavy padlock. She gave it an experimental tug, but the lock held fast, its rusted surface unyielding.
"No good," she muttered, releasing the lock with a frustrated sigh. "We'll have to find another way in."
Matama's eyes darted nervously around the perimeter, searching for any sign of movement or life. The eerie stillness of the abandoned lot sent shivers down her spine. "Maybe we should just go back," she suggested, her voice barely above a whisper. "This place gives me the creeps."
But Nemo shook her head, determination glinting in her teal eyes. "We've come too far to turn back now," she insisted. "Come on, let's check the rest of the fence. There might be a weak spot somewhere."
The two girls began to make their way along the perimeter, their fingers trailing along the cold metal links of the fence. The chain-link rattled softly with each step, the sound unnaturally loud in the oppressive silence of the abandoned lot.
As they rounded the corner of the property, the sun's dwindling rays cast long shadows across their path, turning the overgrown weeds into a sea of inky blackness. Matama shivered, pressing closer to Nemo as they continued their search.
They had almost completed their circuit of the property when Nemo suddenly stopped short, her hand shooting out to grasp Matama's arm. "Wait," she hissed, "look there."
Matama followed Nemo's gaze, her eyes widening as she spotted what had caught her friend's attention. There, partially hidden by a tangle of overgrown bushes, was a section of fence that looked different from the rest. The metal links had been cleanly cut, creating a hole just large enough for a person to squeeze through. The edges of the cut were smooth and precise, a stark contrast to the rust and decay that marked the rest of the fence.
"Bingo," Nemo whispered, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. She crouched down, pushing aside the branches to get a better look. "Probably some vandals work, but this way we can get inside without transforming."
Nemo and Matama exchanged a look of trepidation before Nemo took a deep breath and began to carefully part the tangled branches concealing the opening. The overgrown foliage scratched at their skin as they squeezed through the narrow gap, thorns catching on their clothes and leaving tiny tears in the fabric.
Once through, they found themselves in a small clearing between the fence and the workshop. Piles of metal and wooden beams sat stacked under a number of overhangs in the yard, left abandoned before they could be used. The place really did look abandoned. But as the pair looked around, they saw a pile of cardboard and broken down crates that seemed like they hadn't been around too long given the distinct lack of weathering from any rainfall.
Matama's breath caught in her throat as they approached the front of the building. A large sliding door dominated the facade, its metal surface streaked with rust and grime. Yet the tracks it sat on gleamed faintly in the fading light, as if they had been recently oiled.
Nemo reached out, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against the door's handle. She glanced at Matama, who nodded nervously, before gripping the handle firmly and giving it a tug.
To their surprise, the door slid open smoothly and silently, revealing a yawning darkness beyond. The interior of the workshop was pitch black, the fading daylight barely penetrating more than a few feet inside.
"Hello?" Nemo called softly, her voice echoing in the cavernous space. No response came.
Matama fumbled in her pocket for her phone, activating its flashlight function. The beam cut through the gloom, revealing glimpses of the hideout's interior. Dust motes danced in the light, swirling in eddies created by their movement.
The girls stepped inside, the door sliding shut behind them with a soft click that made them both jump. As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they began to make out more details of their surroundings.
Nemo and Matama crept further into the darkened workshop, their footsteps echoing softly in the cavernous space. The beam from Matama's phone flashlight swept across the interior, revealing glimpses of the hideout's true nature.
To their left, a small kitchenette came into view. Two propane camping stoves sat atop a prefab IKEA countertop, flanked by a second hand refrigerator humming quietly in the darkness. Cabinets lined the wall above, their doors slightly ajar to reveal stacks of canned goods and other non-perishables.
"Yeah, this is the place. I remember seeing it from inside Leopard's shadow." Nemo muttered, her eyes narrowing as she took in the signs of habitation.
Matama nodded, her grip tightening on her phone as she swept the light further into the room. The beam fell upon a cozy living area, complete with a battered but comfortable-looking couch and a sleek flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. A coffee table sat in front of the couch, its surface littered with magazines and a small trash can nearby was filled with what looked like convenience store bento boxes.
"This is definitely not what I was expecting, but it's not bad," Matama murmured as she looked around.
Matama's flashlight beam danced across the walls, searching for any sign of a light switch. It only took a few moments to find one mounted on a wall near a rack of what looked like large car batteries.
With a deep breath, Matama flicked the switch. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a series of loud clicks and buzzes, fluorescent lights flickered to life overhead, bathing the hideout in a harsh, clinical glow.
The sudden illumination revealed the full extent of the space, and both girls blinked rapidly as their eyes adjusted. The workshop was larger than it had appeared in the darkness, with high ceilings crisscrossed by metal beams and ductwork. The concrete floor was stained and scuffed, bearing the marks of years of industrial use, but it had been swept clean and partially covered by mismatched area rugs that added a touch of warmth to the stark space.
Nemo let out a low whistle as she took in their surroundings "I didn't really look around the inside when I was hiding in Leopard's shadow. But yeah, it's not bad for a secret hideout," she murmured, her eyes roaming over the eclectic mix of industrial grit and cozy domesticity.
Now fully visible, the living area looked even more inviting. The couch was a deep burgundy leather, its cushions well-worn but still plush. A colorful throw blanket was draped haphazardly over one arm, and a stack of fluffy pillows occupied one corner. The coffee table was indeed covered in magazines - everything from fashion glossies to tech journals to what looked suspiciously like magical girl fan mags.
Matama wandered over to the kitchenette, running her hand along the countertop. "This is actually kind of nice," she admitted, her earlier fears beginning to fade in the face of such mundane domesticity.
Nemo, meanwhile, made a beeline for the refrigerator. She yanked open the door, cool air rushing out to envelop her as she peered inside. The fridge was stocked with an assortment of convenience store bentos, sandwiches, and drinks.
"Looks like someone's been on a konbini run recently," Nemo called over her shoulder to Matama. She pulled out a plastic-wrapped onigiri, turning it over in her hands as she examined the expiration date. "These are all pretty fresh."
As Nemo continued to rummage through the fridge, Matama's attention was drawn to the far end of the workshop. A heavy curtain had been hung, partitioning off a section of the space. Curiosity piqued, she made her way over, pushing aside the fabric to reveal a makeshift bathroom.
Matama looked around the room. There was no one here, the hideout was empty.
Matama stepped back from the curtained-off bathroom, a frown creasing her brow. "Nemo," she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space, "I don't think anyone's here."
Nemo closed the refrigerator door, the onigiri still clutched in her hand. She sighed. "Yeah, looks like they are gone. Back home I guess."
Home, that was something they had both thought about from time to time. To go home and see their parents, to truly relax.
Both girls made their way to the comfortable second hand sofa and took a seat.
Nemo sank into the plush leather of the couch, feeling the tension drain from her body as she settled into the worn cushions. She turned to Matama, holding out the plastic-wrapped onigiri with a small smile. "Here, you should eat something."
Matama hesitated for a moment before accepting the rice ball, her fingers brushing against Nemo's as she took it. The familiar touch sent a jolt of warmth through her, a reminder of simpler times. As she unwrapped the onigiri, the subtle scent of pickled plum wafted up, triggering a flood of memories.
"You remember," Matama said softly, her eyes growing distant, "how my mom used to make these for us? Every Sunday morning, without fail."
Nemo nodded, a wistful smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "How could I forget? I'd come over to make sure you didn't sleep and walk in to the smell of fresh rice and grilled fish. Your mother would be reading the newspaper at the kitchen table, and your little sister would be running around, trying to sneak bites of everything."
Matama laughed softly, the sound tinged with a hint of sadness. "Yeah, and you were always so responsible."
They could almost hear the sizzle of fish on the grill, the gentle hum of the rice cooker, the rustle of newspaper pages turning.
Nemo closed her eyes, letting the memories wash over her. "Your mom would always make extra, just for me. She'd wrap them up in cloth with a cherry blossom pattern."
"And we'd take them to the park," Matama continued, her voice soft with nostalgia. "Remember that old sakura tree by the pond? We'd sit under it for hours, talking about everything and nothing."
The girls fell silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their current situation pressed down on them, a stark contrast to the carefree days of their youth.
Nemo broke the silence first, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... Do you think we'll ever have that again? A normal life, I mean."
Matama turned to look at her friend, seeing the vulnerability in Nemo's eyes that she so rarely allowed to show. She reached out, taking Nemo's hand in her own and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I don't know, we're in so deep. It's been almost a year since we ran away. What would we even tell our parents if we just showed back up?"
Nemo's grip tightened on Matama's hand. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice thick with emotion. "But sometimes I think about just... running away. From all of this. From Enormita, from the fighting, from everything."
Matama nodded slowly, understanding etched across her features. "I know what you mean. I've thought about it too. I still want to be an idol, but it feels like that dream keeps getting further away."
Nemo unwrapped her own rice ball and bit into it, salmon, mayonnaise and slightly spicy. She wanted to see her friend shine, to see her become the idol she saw in her dreams. It was why she followed Matama into Enormita, to support her, to keep her safe.
The pair of girls sat in companionable silence for a few moments, savoring their onigiri and the brief respite from the chaos of their lives. The familiar flavors and textures transported them back to simpler times, before magical girls and villainous organizations had turned their world upside down.
As Matama finished the last bite of her rice ball, she licked the stray rice from her fingers and turned to Nemo with a thoughtful expression. "So, what's the plan now? We can't just sit here waiting for Baiser and the others to show up. What if Enorme gets suspicious about how long we've been gone?"
Nemo nodded, her brow furrowing as she considered their options. "You're right. We need to be smart about this."
Matama suddenly jumped up from the couch, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I've got it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "Why don't I put on one of my impromptu concerts? My amazing singing is sure to draw Baiser's attention!"
Nemo raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across her features. "Are you serious? That's your big plan?"
"Think about it, Nemo," Matama said, her voice filled with confidence. "My voice is like a siren's call. It's enchanting, mesmerizing! If Baiser is anywhere nearby, she won't be able to resist."
Nemo's expression shifted from skepticism to barely concealed horror as she realized Matama was entirely serious about her proposed "plan." She knew all too well the reality of Matama's singing abilities, having endured countless impromptu performances over the years of their friendship.
Nemo sighed, shaking her head in amused exasperation. "This is probably the dumbest idea you've ever had," she said, a shark toothed grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. If they make a big enough show, it would draw attention. "But you know what? It might just work."
—-
The next day dawned bright and clear, a perfect Saturday for an amusement park adventure. Nemo and Matama had snuck into Sendai Dreamland under the guise of continuing their reconnaissance mission, but both girls were secretly thrilled at the chance for a bit of normalcy amidst the chaos of their lives.
As they stepped through the ornate wrought-iron gates, the sights, sounds, and smells of the park enveloped them. The air was thick with the scent of buttery popcorn, sugary cotton candy, and sizzling yakisoba. Cheerful music drifted from hidden speakers, punctuated by the excited shrieks of riders on distant roller coasters.
Matama's eyes widened as she took in the vibrant scene before them. "Oh my gosh, Nemo! Look at everything!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitement.
The park was a riot of color and motion. Towering roller coasters loomed overhead, their tracks twisting and turning against the clear blue sky. A massive Ferris wheel rotated slowly in the distance, its gondolas gleaming in the sunlight. Closer at hand, a vintage carousel spun lazily, its painted horses bobbing up and down to the tinkling of a musical tune.
Families with young children, groups of teenagers, and couples of all ages milled about, their faces alight with joy and anticipation. Mascot characters in oversized costumes wandered through the crowds, posing for pictures and giving out high-fives to delighted kids.
Nemo couldn't help but smile at Matama's enthusiasm, even as she scanned the area for any potential threats. "Remember, we're supposed to be working," she murmured, but there was no real admonishment in her tone.
Matama linked her arm through Nemo's, practically dragging her friend towards the nearest attraction. "Come on, Nemo! We can work and have fun at the same time. Besides, we'll blend in better if we act like normal park guests, right?"
As they wandered deeper into the park, the girls found themselves swept up in the festive atmosphere. They passed by game booths where barkers called out challenges, promising oversized stuffed animals to anyone skilled enough to win. The tantalizing aroma of freshly baked waffles wafted from a nearby food stand, making both their mouths water.
Matama's eyes lit up at the sight of the food, but a sudden realization made her pause. She turned to Nemo, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hey, Nemo... do you have any money left? I really want to try those, but I'm all out."
Nemo patted her pockets, a frown creasing her brow. "Sorry, Matama. I'm tapped out too. We spent the last of it on those crepes earlier."
Disappointment flashed across Matama's face, but before she could respond, Nemo's gaze landed on a nearby building. A sign depicting a stylized figure marked it as a restroom.
"Wait here for a moment," Nemo said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I've got an idea."
Matama watched curiously as Nemo slipped into the washroom. Once inside, Nemo checked to ensure she was alone "Trans Magia," she whispered before light enveloped her and transformed her into Leberblume. With practiced ease she used her magic and dissolved into the shadows and slipped back out of the restroom.
Leberblume emerged from the restroom as nothing more than a dark smudge on the sun-baked pavement. She slithered along the ground, a living shadow barely distinguishable from those cast by the bustling crowd above. The cacophony of the amusement park faded to a muffled hum as she glided silently beneath the feet of unsuspecting park goers.
The shadow that was Leberblume darted between colorful sneakers and sandaled feet, weaving a serpentine path through the throng. She passed beneath strollers laden with souvenirs and dodged the sticky droplets of melting ice cream cones. The scent of sugary confections grew stronger as she approached her target.
The waffle stand stood like a beacon of temptation, its cheery red and white awning fluttering in the gentle breeze. Steam rose from the waffle irons within, carrying with it the intoxicating aroma of vanilla and caramelizing sugar. A line of eager customers stretched out from the counter, their mouths watering in anticipation.
Leberblume's shadowy form slipped beneath the stand, navigating a small forest of table and chair legs. She could hear the sizzle of batter hitting hot iron and the cheerful chatter of the staff as they worked. Carefully, she extended a tendril of darkness upward, feeling for her prize.
On the counter above, a tray of freshly made waffles sat cooling, dusted with a light snowfall of powdered sugar. The delicate confection sparkled in the sunlight, looking almost too perfect to eat. With practiced precision, Leberblume's shadow-tendril wrapped around two of the waffles, gently lifting them from the tray.
In one fluid motion, she pulled the waffles down into her shadow form, engulfing them in darkness. The powdered sugar swirled within her like a miniature galaxy, each crystal a twinkling star. Leberblume could feel the warmth of the waffles, their crisp exterior giving way to a pillowy softness within. It was always such a strange sensation when she pulled something into herself as a shadow, to feel all of it so closely.
Mission accomplished, Leberblume began her stealthy retreat. She glided past the feet of the oblivious vendor, who continued to chat animatedly with customers.
She slithered back through the crowd, the stolen waffles safely ensconced within her shadowy form. The scent of vanilla and sugar trailed behind her, a phantom fragrance that left passersby sniffing the air in confusion. At last, she reached the restroom where her journey had begun.
With a final glance to ensure the coast was clear, Leberblume slipped back inside. In a shimmer of magic, she reformed into her human guise, the pilfered waffles now sitting in her hands.
Nemo emerged from the restroom, a triumphant grin on her face as she held up two perfectly golden waffles. Matama's eyes widened in delight and surprise.
"Nemo! How did you...?" Matama began, but Nemo quickly shushed her with a finger to her lips.
"Best not to ask," Nemo said with a wink, handing one of the waffles to her friend. "Let's just enjoy our spoils, shall we?"
Matama hesitated for only a moment before taking a bite of the still-warm confection. Her eyes closed in bliss as the sweet, buttery flavor filled her mouth. "Oh my gosh, this is amazing," she mumbled around her mouthful as she brought a hand to a blushing cheek.
The girls wandered through the park, savoring their illicit treats. The powdered sugar left a fine dusting on their fingers and lips, which they licked away with guilty pleasure. For a few precious moments, they were just two normal teenagers enjoying a day at the amusement park, their worries about Enorme and attempt at defection temporarily forgotten.
As Nemo and Matama strolled through the park, savoring their stolen waffles, the sights and sounds of Sendai Dreamland enveloped them in a cocoon of whimsical delight. The afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the landscape, turning everything into a shimmering dreamscape.
They passed by a charming teacup ride, its pastel-painted cups spinning in dizzying circles. Children's laughter rang out, mingling with the tinkling melody of the ride's cheerful music. Matama's eyes lit up as she watched, a wistful smile playing at her sugar-dusted lips.
"Remember when we used to ride those?" she asked, nodding towards the teacups. "You always made ours spin so fast I thought I'd be sick."
Nemo chuckled, licking a stray bit of powdered sugar from her thumb. "Yeah, and you'd always beg me to go faster, even when your face was turning green."
They continued on, passing by a row of game booths. The air was filled with the enthusiastic shouts of barkers, the pinging of BB guns, and the disappointed groans of unlucky players. A young couple stood at one of the booths, the boy trying desperately to win a giant stuffed panda for his girlfriend.
Matama paused to watch, taking another bite of her waffle. "Aww, that's so sweet," she cooed. "Don't you think it'd be nice to have someone win you a prize like that, Nemo?"
Nemo rolled her eyes, but there was a softness in her expression as she glanced at her friend. "Please. As if I'd need anyone to win me a prize. I could clear out this whole row of booths if I wanted to."
Nemo and Matama continued their leisurely stroll through Sendai Dreamland, the stolen waffles now nothing more than a sweet memory on their tongues. As they wandered deeper into the park, the crowds began to thin, and the cacophony of excited screams and cheerful music faded to a distant hum.
They found themselves in a quieter section of the park, where winding paths meandered through lush gardens.
As they rounded a bend in the path, a clearing opened up before them. In the center stood a charming open-air amphitheater, its white-painted wood gleaming in the afternoon sun.
Rows of tiered seating curved around the stage in a gentle embrace, each bench crafted from polished wood that seemed to glow with a warm light of mid afternoon.
A sign near the entrance proclaimed it to be the "Dreamland Melody Garden," but the area was deserted, the stage silent and waiting.
Matama's eyes widened as she took in the sight, her breath catching in her throat. "Oh, Nemo," she breathed, her voice filled with awe and excitement. "It's perfect!"
Nemo raised an eyebrow, a sense of foreboding settling in her stomach. "Perfect for what, exactly?"
But Matama was already rushing towards the stage, her maroon hair streaming behind her like a banner. She bounded up the steps and twirled in the center of the platform, her arms outstretched as if embracing an invisible audience.
"Don't you see?" Matama called back to Nemo, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "This is exactly what we need! I can perform here, and my beautiful voice will surely draw Baiser to us!"
Nemo groaned inwardly as she watched Matama twirl excitedly on the stage. She knew there was no talking her friend out of this once she got an idea in her head. With a resigned sigh, Nemo made her way to the front row of seats and plopped down.
"I guess this is as good a place as any."
As Matama began to warm up her voice, Nemo settled into her seat, a strange mixture of emotions swirling within her. The amphitheater seemed to amplify every sound, from the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze to the distant laughter of children on far-off rides.
Nemo's eyes swept over the empty seats surrounding her, imagining them filled with an adoring audience. It was easy to picture Matama up there, basking in the spotlight, living out her dreams of stardom. For a moment, Nemo could almost see it - a future where they were free from Enorme's clutches, where Matama could pursue her passion without fear.
But as quickly as the vision came, it faded, replaced by the harsh reality of their situation. Nemo's gaze drifted to the sky above, where fluffy white clouds drifted lazily across the azure expanse. How long had it been since they'd simply sat and watched the clouds, without the weight of Enorme's expectations pressing down on them?
As Matama's voice rose in a series of scales, Nemo found herself transported back to their early days with Enormita. The promise of power, of being part of something greater than themselves, had been intoxicating. Enorme had taken them in, nurtured their abilities, given them a purpose. There had been a time when Nemo had truly believed in their cause, when the idea of reshaping the world had seemed not just possible, but right.
The memory of Enorme's approving smile, rare but potent, sent a shiver down Nemo's spine. For all her cruelty, Enorme had also been something of a mentor at the start, pushing them to heights they never thought possible. The rush of using their powers, of feeling that raw energy coursing through their veins - it was addictive.
Nemo's fingers absently traced the outline of her transformation star, hidden beneath her clothes. The cool metal seemed to pulse against her skin, a reminder of the power that lay dormant within her. With Enorme, at least they knew where they stood despite the danger. They had status, protection, a clearly defined role in the grand scheme of things.
But as Nemo's gaze returned to Matama, now launching into an overly enthusiastic rendition of a popular idol song, she felt a pang of doubt. The joy on her friend's face was genuine, untainted by the darkness that had slowly seeped into their lives under Enorme's rule. When was the last time Nemo had seen Matama so carefree, so truly happy?
The sound of Matama's voice, while far far far from professional quality, carried a warmth and passion that seemed to make the very air vibrate with possibility. It spoke of dreams unfulfilled, of a future not yet written.
And wasn't that what they were fighting for? A chance to write their own story, free from Enorme's influence?
Yet the prospect of defecting to Baiser's rebellion brought with it a wave of unease. This moment, here in this quiet corner of Sendai Dreamland, suddenly felt like a crossroads - perhaps their last chance to turn back from the traitorous path they'd set upon.
In one direction lay the familiar darkness of Enorme's realm, a place of power and purpose, albeit soaked with fear and cruelty. In the other, the unknown territory of Baiser's rebellion, promising the potential of freedom but fraught with uncertainty.
Nemo's gaze drifted to the distant roller coasters, their towering structures silhouetted against the sky. She thought of the stomach-dropping plunge of those rides, the terrifying thrill of free fall. Wasn't that what they were doing now? Taking a leap into the unknown, with no guarantee of where they'd land?
But this was their only way out, the only path away from Enorme.
Matama finished her song with a dramatic flourish, her chest heaving with exertion and excitement. "So, what do you think? Do you think it'll be enough to lure her here?"
Nemo hesitated. Matama's enthusiasm was infectious, but the plan was reckless at best. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell Matama to transform and get it over with, when she remembered one small detail. Leopard had called Baiser Utena, and she had Utena's phone number from the last time they went to a Karaoke parlor and encountered Utena and her girlfriend.
The teal haired girl looked down at her pocket and pulled out her phone..
"Maybe," Nemo said slowly, her mind racing. "But we could… you know… make sure."
"Make sure?" Matama asked, tilting her head in confusion.
Nemo stood and walked to the stage, each step feeling like it could crack the fragile ground of their friendship. She climbed the steps and took Matama's hands on her own.
"What if we had a way to contact her directly?" Nemo said, searching Matama's eyes for understanding — or at least for permission to stall this dangerous scheme.
Matama pulled her hands back, crossing them over her chest defensively. "What are you talking about? We don't know how to reach Baiser."
Nemo bit her lip. This was it; she had to play this carefully. "Yes and no…"
"What do you mean?" Matama asked as she cocked her head to the side.
The phone seemed heavy in Nemo's hand as she lifted it up. Revealing someone's secret identity seemed like a shitty thing to do, but given the circumstances, it seemed necessary.
Nemo took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around the phone. "I have Baiser's phone number," she said, letting the words hang in the air like a storm cloud.
Matama's eyes widened in shock. "You what? How—?"
"Remember when we went to the Karaoke Parlour and ran into Utena and her girlfriend?" Nemo interrupted, knowing she had to get it all out before Matama's disbelief derailed them. "When I was riding in Leopard's shadow, I heard her call Baiser by a name."
Matama's confusion deepened, her brows knitting together. "A name? You mean Baiser, Baiser's real name?"
"Yeah," Nemo said, swallowing hard. "Her real name. Leopard called her Utena."
The realization began to dawn on Matama, but she still looked skeptical. "So you're saying that Baiser is... Utena?"
Matama squinted, her large, expressive eyes narrowing as she tried to piece together the fragments of information. Nemo could almost see the cogs turning in her friend's mind.
"Utena...?" Matama muttered, her voice trailing off into a thoughtful silence. She bit her lip, lost in contemplation. "That's kind of ridiculous, Utena is just a—"
A sharp intake of breath cut her sentence short. Matama's hand flew to her temples, as a sudden spike of pain lanced through her head like an acute headache.
Nemo recognized the reaction from when she reached the same conclusion. The anti-recognition magic they all enjoyed to protect their identity had broken down.
Matama staggered back, clutching her head as if trying to hold her thoughts together. "Oh god," she whispered. "It's true. Utena is Baiser."
The silence between them grew thick, almost tangible, like the air before a summer storm. Nemo could see the conflict playing out on Matama's face: the shock, the fear, and then something else—hope?
"So now you understand why we can't just lure her in blindly," Nemo said, breaking the oppressive quiet. "Why do we need to think this through?"
Matama straightened slowly, her usual buoyant energy subdued. "If we call her, she'll know we're the ones reaching out. She'll know we're desperate."
"She'll know we're serious," Nemo countered. "And maybe she'll respect that."
"But what about the plan with the concert?"
"We're taking a huge gamble either way," Nemo said softly. "But this way, we have a chance to plead our case. To see where she stands. It's probably smarter than getting her attention with our 'guns out' in a big show."
Matama looked away, her eyes finding the distant ferris wheel now, slowly turning against the horizon like a lazy pinwheel. For a moment, Nemo thought she might disagree and suggest that they should delay this dangerous course just long enough to find another solution.
"Fine," Matama said at last as she pouted over the demise of her concert. "Call her."
—
As traitors and rebels moved and swayed to the desires of their hearts, Enorme strode alone through the corridors of Nacht Base, her footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. Her earlier rage at the recent events had cooled somewhat, tempered by food, sleep, and time to contemplate her next move.
Sister Gigant was gone, off resting in her quarters. Loco Musica and Leberblume were likewise absent from the base now, both of them were off scouting Sendai and searching for what was left of the rebels, Leopard and Alice. She was content for now with the knowledge that Baiser was out of the picture.
As she navigated the labyrinthine hallways, Enorme's golden eyes swept over the damage left in Baiser's wake. Scorch marks marred the walls, deep gouges carved into the stone floor where magical blasts had gone awry. The acrid scent of ozone still lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the ferocious clash that had taken place mere hours ago.
Enorme's lips curled into a sneer as she passed a section of wall that had been completely obliterated, leaving a gaping hole that opened onto the swirling void beyond. Through it, she could see the eternal night sky of the pocket dimension that housed Nacht Base, stars twinkling coldly in the vast expanse of darkness. The small figures of the strange little golems waddled around, picking up debris and beginning repairs on all the damage done to the fortress.
The dark lord's footsteps quickened as she approached her destination. The winding corridors gave way to a grand hallway, its high vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. Ornate tapestries lined the walls, their rich colors a stark contrast to the austere stone surrounding them.
At the end of the hallway loomed a set of massive double doors that led to her private sanctum. As she approached the doors, she pulled a long key of dark wrought iron and slid it into the keyhole of the great doors. She put her hands on the towering doors and pushed them open. They creaked ominously as they parted and allowed the dark overlord into her chambers.
Enorme stepped into her opulent chambers, the heavy doors swinging shut behind her with a resounding thud. The room that greeted her was a testament to her grandiose vision of herself as a dark queen, a lavish sanctuary that stood in stark contrast to the austere corridors of Nacht Base.
The master bedroom was a breathtaking display of splendor, every surface adorned with intricate details and luxurious materials. Towering windows lined one wall, their glass panes offering glimpses of the swirling void beyond. Heavy velvet curtains in deep crimson hung from ornate golden rods, ready to be drawn against the eternal night outside.
A massive four-poster bed dominated the center of the room, its frame carved from rich mahogany and inlaid with gold leaf. The bedposts twisted upward like gnarled tree trunks, supporting a canopy of shimmering black silk. Plush pillows and bedding in shades of gold and burgundy beckoned invitingly, promising decadent comfort.
Ornate chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their crystal droplets catching and refracting the warm light of countless candles. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the walls, bringing the intricate frescoes to life. The painted scenes depicted Enorme's imagined triumphs - magical girls bowing before her throne, cities laid waste by her power, the world reshaped in her image.
A massive fireplace took up nearly an entire wall, its mantle a work of art in itself. Carved from black marble, it featured writhing figures locked in eternal struggle, their agonized faces a stark reminder of the price of defying Enorme's will. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting a warm glow across the polished marble floor.
Plush Persian rugs in deep jewel tones softened the cold stone underfoot, their intricate patterns a dizzying display of artistry. Antique furniture, each piece a masterwork of craftsmanship, was artfully arranged throughout the room. A chaise lounge upholstered in rich burgundy velvet sat before the fire, inviting relaxation and contemplation.
A grand vanity occupied another corner, its gilt-framed mirror reflecting the opulence of the room. The surface was cluttered with an array of cosmetics and jewelry, each item more valuable than the last. A delicate music box sat open, its tinkling melody adding an ethereal quality to the air.
As Enorme moved deeper into the room, her boots sinking into the plush carpet, she felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. This was her domain, her inner sanctum where she could relax.
Enorme moved through her opulent chambers, her golden eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. Despite the comfort and luxury that surrounded her, she couldn't shake the lingering unease that clung to her like a shroud. The battle with Baiser had shaken her more than she cared to admit, even to herself.
She approached the grand vanity, her reflection staring back at her from the ornate mirror. The woman who gazed back at her was a far cry from the imperious figure she usually presented to the world. Her long, dark hair was disheveled, her white kimono stained and torn.
As Enorme gazed into the mirror, the flickering candlelight seemed to dance and swirl within its gilded frame. The shadows in the corners of the room deepened, taking on an almost tangible quality. A chill ran down Enorme's spine as she noticed a subtle shift in her reflection.
There, perched atop the vanity behind her, was a small, rabbit-like figure that she was sure hadn't been there moments before. Its plush black body was adorned with golden star symbols on its ears and chest, a golden star serving as its tail. The creature's yellow eyes gleamed with an unsettling intelligence as it regarded Enorme through the mirror.
"Venalita," Enorme breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. She whirled around to face the magical mascot, her tattered kimono swirling as she drew out her whip.
The stuffed animal-like being tilted its head, its perpetual smile seeming to widen. "My, my, Lord Enorme. You've certainly seen better days, haven't you?" Venalita's voice was light and playful, a stark contrast to the tension that crackled in the air between them.
Enorme's eyes narrowed, her fists clenching at her sides. "You dare show your face here, traitor? After everything that's happened?"
Venalita's laughter filled the room, a tinkling sound like wind chimes in a storm. "Traitor? Oh, Enorme, you wound me. I've always been on your side. Well, on the side that benefits me the most, at any rate."
The mascot floated up from the vanity and approached, its arms spread placatingly.
"I admit, things haven't quite gone according to plan," Venalita continued, circling Enorme like a shark sizing up its prey. "Baiser has proven to be... more troublesome than anticipated. But that doesn't mean I've abandoned our cause."
Enorme's golden eyes tracked Venalita's movement, her body tense and ready. "Our cause? You recruited that succubus, brought her into my organization. And now look what's happened!"
Venalita paused, looking up at Enorme with those unnerving yellow eyes. "Ah, but think of the potential, my dear. Baiser may have caused some... disruptions, but she's also shown us just how powerful she can be. Imagine what we could accomplish if we could harness that power, bend it to our will."
The mascot's words hung in the air, tempting and dangerous. Enorme found herself considering the possibility despite her anger. Baiser's raw power had been undeniable, even as it had torn through Nacht Base, it was a power that she wanted.
"And how exactly do you propose we do that?"
Enorme's skin prickled as she watched the dark mascot. Venalita was acting differently than usual. Gone was the submissive scraping and apologizing, replaced by something different.
Venalita floated around the opulent chamber, her yellow eyes taking in every detail. To Enorme, the room was the epitome of luxury and grandeur, something befitting a dark queen. But Venalita knew better. After all, she put this room together for the woman, and she knew the truth behind the façade.
She drifted past the massive four-poster bed, her sleeve brushing against the canopy. What Enorme believed to be shimmering black silk was, in reality, a cheap polyester blend. The fabric was rough against Venalita's plush fur, lacking the smooth coolness of true silk. The gold leaf adorning the mahogany frame flaked off at the slightest touch, revealing the base metal beneath.
The mascot's gaze swept over the ornate chandeliers, their crystal droplets catching the candlelight. But these weren't true crystals - they were nothing more than cut glass, mass-produced and lacking the brilliance of genuine crystal.
She drifted over the Persian rugs, her hands sinking into the plush pile. But beneath the vibrant colors and intricate patterns, Venalita could feel the cheap synthetic fibers. These were not handwoven masterpieces from the East, but machine-made imitations, their designs printed rather than painstakingly knotted.
The mascot paused at the vanity, her reflection joining Enorme's in the gilt-framed mirror. The surface was cluttered with an array of cosmetics, each container bearing the logo of a luxury brand. But Venalita's keen nose could detect the cheap ingredients within - these were knockoffs, their contents no better than drugstore brands despite their fancy packaging.
It was all fake, all an elaborate ruse made to pump up Enorme's ego.
The mascot turned back to Enorme, her perpetual smile seeming to widen. "My dear Lord Enorme," she began, her voice dripping with honeyed charm, "you've done admirably with the resources at your disposal. But to truly achieve the victory you desire, we must think... bigger."
Venalita's hand disappeared into the baggy sleeve of her plush form. When it reemerged, it held four palm sized, jet-black stars. Glossy and metallic, they looked like a cross between obsidian and cast iron.
"Behold, with these your conquest will be assured."
Enorme's golden eyes widened, fixated on the small black stars. "What... what are they?" she breathed, unable to hide her fascination.
Venalita's grin sharpened. "These, my ambitious friend, are the means by which we will turn your enemies into your most loyal servants. Present these to the girls you captured, the members of Cute Creamery. With these Black Stars, we can remake them in your image."
The mascot floated closer, the black stars hovering above her paw. "Imagine it, Enorme. Four powerful magical girls, their abilities enhanced by the dark energy of these stars, their wills bound to yours. They would be the perfect shock troops, utterly loyal and devastatingly effective."
Enorme's breath caught in her throat as she considered the possibilities. "And you're certain this will work? They won't resist?"
Venalita's eyes gleamed with wicked delight as she regarded Enorme. "Oh, they may resist, at first," she purred, her voice dripping with dark promise. "But that's half the fun, isn't it? Watching their futile struggles as the darkness consumes them, reshaping them into perfect servants of your will."
The mascot floated closer still, leaning in towards Enorme. "These stars contain a power far beyond anything those girls have ever encountered. It will overwhelm their senses, flood their minds with darkness. Their transformation items will be corrupted, their magic twisted to serve your ends."
Enorme's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Perfect. With an elite squad of corrupted magical girls at my command, whatever half dead corpse that's left of Baiser and her little band of traitors won't stand a chance."