"Gods often contradict
our fondest expectations.
What we anticipate
does not come to pass.
What we don't expect
some god finds a way to make it happen."

- Euripides, Medea

April 29th, 2028. Time unknown. Somewhere in Kyoto City.

She wakes up with a start and a sharp pain in her head. The world starts coming back into focus as she lifts her face off the cold metal table, wincing.

Smooth gray walls without windows, probably soundproofed, a single metal table in the center, two armless chairs, cameras above. Dim recessed light, casting sharp shadows. Sterile, claustrophobic - designed to make whoever is inside feel vulnerable.

The fact she can see through some walls and through the one-way mirror on the wall to her right lessens some of the impact, but even for her it's tremendously unpleasant. Underground, not too deep... maybe two stories down? Two men watch her from the other side.

The girl examines herself on the mirror, and is startled for a split second - smeared make-up, slightly lost look, hair a mess, the paleness of someone caught in something far worse than intended. How long has she been here? At least she doesn't think she's hurt, other than the damn headache - even these weak lights are like a hammer to her temples.

Her eyes flicker to the men. They noticed she's awake, and she can sense their anticipation. She's not yet good enough at reading lips to understand what they're saying, but she doesn't really need to; by now she recalls enough to piece together what happened, though she'd rather not. The question, she thinks, anxiety rising, is how to get out of this without breaking cover; after all, if she's here, they have at least some suspicion.

The officers enter, wearing simple suits, crisp ties and an air of authority. They approach the table, files, in hand, expressions unreadable. Both in their 40s. The shortest one seats on the chair, the other stands by the door.

"Good evening, Kurokawa-san. Apologies for bringing you here directly, but as you see", says the one seated - Takeshi Koichiro, KFK on his badge - as he places the open file on the table and pushes it towards her, "it was of the utmost importance."

Wide eyes, open mouth, brief gasp - her best "shocked" expression, without overacting. Use actual emotions.

"Look, we're not here to make things harder for you" says the taller man, almost sympathetically. Matsuyama Youhei, KFK. "We just need to understand it. You were found unconscious, we're trying to figure out what happened, and you're a key witness."

They... don't get along.

"I... I don't remember much," she starts, softly. Her throat hurts. "I was at a party, a private party... I don't even remember how I ended up there..."

"We have camera footage of you entering and witnesses who saw you leave with him", Takeshi interrupts coldly as he leans closer. "And of all the people who were there, you're the only one who didn't end on a hospital - or a morgue."

"I'm not lying!", she blurts out, pulse quickening, her eyes wide and tearful. "I didn't do anything, I swear... please... I'm innocent. I'm just trying to figure it out myself..."

The other man takes a step from the door and lightly touches her shoulder, almost apologetically.

"Take your time. But if you can tell us anything, it will really help."

She stares at him like a lost puppy, then at the other. She can almost hear them relaxing slightly as Matsuyama gives the short man a censuring look and he starts rubbing his temple to hide his ashamed expression.

"It's okay. Take a breath and tell us what you know. Start from the beginning."

Gotcha!

"Can I... can I have a glass of water? My head is really pounding..."

"Of course", says Takeshi, clearly relieved to find a way to ease the tension. He leaves for a moment and quickly returns with a bottle and cup from a mini-fridge.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to; doubt had already started creeping in, and the almost imperceptible frown in Matsuyama's forehead was a rift to the Sight. "Here, Kurokawa-san."

She takes the glass, savouring the coolness as she sips down, allowing herself a brief moment to focus on the character.

A run-in with the law is never something to be taken lightly, and this, while a possible outcome, is not what she had planned for. Fortunately, the other time she really was just a victim, so it was sort of familiar.

Also, the fucking headache, Holy Mother - she knew it would be bad, but not this bad.

"We... me and the rest of the cast... we were at a restaurant after promotion was done for the day," she starts, her voice erratic at first, then a bit more steady. "There were a lot of people I didn't know? I remember being introduced to some local politicians and businessmen, but I can't really remember their names... I was very tired, it was a gruelling day. The food was great... but I wasn't even that hungry and I, I'm not of age to drink, I went more because my friends went to... I really just wanted to sleep."

She pauses, gathering her thoughts. When she starts again, her voice has a harder time coming out.

"Th-this man, this one on the p-picture, he was there since early, came to talk to me. I don't... I don't remember everything he said. Something about an after-party at his house, asked if didn't want to come, and I was going to say no... but I didn't want my friends to go alone."

Another pause. She drinks some more water, the tension building in her chest again, then looks up again. They were scrutinizing her so intently, she felt half-naked.

She shudders.

"I... think someone made me drink something, I don't know, a... sweet cocktail, but I think of soap? Then..."

Her eyes widen: the missing piece has fallen in place.

"...oh God. Oh God oh God oh God, please, please don't..."
She frantically glances down at her clothes, noticing a large tear in her dress. Panic rises within her, her breath quickens, and she starts sobbing uncontrollably.

The officers exchange another glance. They're very good at hiding their emotions, but this is clearly not going on as they expected, and their frustration at her breakdown is palpable.

After her sobbing seemingly dies down, Takeshi clears his throat.

"Kurokawa-san, this is important". His voice is soothing but a bit impatient, trying to regain control of the situation, she notices - his hands are twitching on his notebook. "We're here to help you, but you need to give us more to work with. You were at a party, yes, but who gave you this drink? We don't want you to be involved with this any more than you need to be."

"Take your time. We know this is horrible, but if you can tell us who did this to you, it will help a lot with the investigation," says the other one, fatherly - the good cop.

Still shaking, she tries to clean the snot and tears from her face on her scarf, fingers trembling as she points at the picture of the dead man, his face transfigured by terror.

His bulging eyes, almost jumping out as if begging for help. The blue sheen of his skin.

What have I become? Who are you, Kurokawa Akane, to have done this? What are you?

Her body trembles harder now, an instinctive shudder taking her.

Matsuyama sighs, but before he's able to speak anything else, the door opens...

...and in walks someone seemingly directly out a conspiracy theory, in all of her bizarre nondescript glory.

A dark-tailored suit made with dense, matte materials. Dark sunglasses, even inside. Black gloves. No marks, no distinguishing insignia or rank, nothing. Even her face is unremarkable behind the sunglasses - late 30s to early 40s, little makeup, tied hair, the sort of woman one imagines in accounting or some other bureaucratic job.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but this case is now under our jurisdiction."

Voice flat and commanding, she presents the two stunned men with a set of papers. Takeshi stares at them, blinking with disbelief.

"She will be taken into my custody, effective immediately", she continues, her tone leaving no space for argument. "You will cease further investigation and forward all evidence to the address indicated here. Your superior has already been informed. Any discussion on this matter is strictly forbidden. Understood?"

He glances down at the paper, stares at her, opens and closes his mouth, then at the girl, then at her again. For a moment it seems like Takeshi will protest... until he bows his head in defeat and shakes his head.

"Understood, ma'am. She is yours", he says, tersely.

He looks at the girl with an undecipherable expression. Matsuyama, meanwhile, is frozen since she walked in, seemingly too flabbergasted to even be able to form words.

"Excellent. Thank you for your compliance. Until next time."

All of this time, the girl herself is completely at a loss for what is happening - she has prepared for a lot, but this was something she most certainly couldn't predict. Then she starts looking for a way out, like a cornered beast, until she hears the woman's voice - inside her head.

Relax, come the words, compellingly. I'm taking you out here. You have a lot of explaining to do, but this is not what it seems.

It's only then she notices - a fingernail mark, under her gloves.

Adapt or die, she thinks to herself as she swallows hard.

With that thought in mind, the sole thing she focus on to escape the woman's overwhelming presence, she just follows her.

Before she leaves the room, Takeshi catches her eye - the tense jaw, the bloodhound's glare, the flaring nostrils, the steel that is the man.

Everything about him said, "this is not over."

It's not long until they reach their destination - the garage of the Kyoto Prefectural Police Headquarters, on the same level where she was being kept, where an, again, bizarrely nondescript black van with dark-tinted windows is parked.

It's strangely difficult for her to accurately sense the interior, but it doesn't matter - the heavy door has barely creaked open as she is firmly shoved inside by the woman, the motion jarring as she stumbles inside, the door immediately shut behind her. The engine hums to life, and she knows there are other three mahou shoujo inside - but even though she was warned her this would happen eventually, it's still hard to keep her heart from racing.

As soon as the woman open the other door and takes the passenger seat they start moving, the very similarly dressed one on the driver's seat not even looking back, stepping on the pedal, tires rolling on the pavement, taking them outside. More concerning, however, is the armed lady in the back, rapier pointed at her, making no attempt to hide her magical nature.

"Sit down and don't even think of trying anything", she says, a strangely familiar reddish pink-haired girl clad in a frilly purple outfit with black details, twin butterfly-like ribbons on both sides of her head. Akane, unsure if she's more afraid of the sword or the death glare she's wielding, nods and immediately sits.

The tense climate continues after the car leaves the department into the daylight, Akane stealing uncomfortable glances at the others, the others silent. The van turns and twists, passing through a tunnel, then going over a bridge, then heading south; even though she can see through the walls, she doesn't know Kyoto, but it's clear they're getting away from the most crowded parts of the city. Maybe towards Fushimi?

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, they arrive at an outwardly ordinary if large residence, the van parking inside a garage. When the door opens again, however, as she leaves the van, there's a split second where the air seems to shifts, and before she properly sees it, she knows she was right - it was someone trying too hard to make it look like a conspiracy theory.

The van... moults, its black surface crackling and falling and disappearing before touching the ground, giving way to a much more believable vehicle - still a van, but a much more normal looking one, with a logo writ large on the side - "D ".

"We went through a lot of trouble extracting you from there, Kurokawa Akane-san. So we now are going to have a little talk, and you're going to explain exactly how and why you killed Matsuoka Masahiko", says the woman that brought her - except she looks completely different.

She, and the driver, change with what almost feels like an instant woosh of spreading pixels - the driver into a tiny, serious girl, silver-blonde hair made up in twin tails who looks almost through her; the leader, a smirking girl with fiery red hair loosely tied with a bow, who opens a box of Pocky and throws one at her.

"And don't bother lying",she adds, pointing to the former driver, "because Yui-chan will know."

She moves to the door into the house, then looks back at the others with a toothy grin.

"But first we eat, of course!"

...eat?

It's so different from how her day began. It's almost surreal.

Instead of the cold, sterile grey and silence of the police interrogation room, she is in the dining room of a large family house, the sounds of clinking plates and the soft hum of a stove on the kitchen where the formerly armed girl is preparing something, transformed back into normal clothing.

"Sakura-sama, make sure you're all comfortable", comes her voice. "I'll bring the food in a while."

"Right, right. Well, you heard her!" says the red-haired girl, still chewing on Pocky, as she sits down on one of the chairs around the table. Yui follows her, settling with a quick precision that makes Akane's skin prickle with unease - lie-detector - maybe a mind-reader? Akane nervously sits down as well and examines her surroundings a bit more.

Golden lighting and wooden floor, the smell of lavender coming from a flower vase on a small table near the entrance. On the centre, a long, clearly well-used wooden dining table, its surface bearing the faint marks of countless meals shared over the years. A large window on the side, airy curtains flowing dreamily, the rare pedestrian sometimes walking through the quiet streets of wherever this is. Bookshelves with a mix of books, action figures, decorative plaques and the like.

Looking at the walls now, she immediately realizes why the girl in the kitchen was so familiar.

There are many family pictures, from old sepia-toned to clearly very recent ones, but in many of them she can see many copies of the pink-hair girl - because she is after all one of the four identical twin sisters of renowned actress Nakano Ichika. She never worked with Ichika, but is passingly familiar with her career - and, well, quintuplets are something rare enough that she remembers it from the news.

The photos blur together at first - the same face, with shifting expressions like they were trying to tell a secret. But then one picture stands out. They are clad in different wedding gowns; one (Ichika?) laughs at something only she knows, another seemingly trying to hide from the camera, while a third flashes a mischievous grin (probably the one she met - same ribbons). A fourth with a determined expression. The last one, green ribbon on her head, stands in the middle, embraced by all others, along with a man she doesn't recognize - but the wedding dress and the groom's suit tells her what she needs to know. They're family, and the man must be her husband.

They all look so happy together.

Akane's throat tightens, and for a moment, she's back home. She misses when she felt like that with her family.

The sound of a tray setting on the table brings her back, and her stomach grumbles at the sight of the steaming dishes - the last time she ate was the previous day, after all. It's simple food, but her body reacts to it like it's a feast.

"Eat up, Kurokawa-san", says the pink-haired girl, expression a bit softer now. She gestures to food. "Then we talk."

"So, Kurokawa-san... it's time we get to business", Kyouko says, leaning back in her chair, stomach finally satisfied.

Making the trek to Kyoto is always a hassle, but there's a major upside: the food. They are far from the days of living hand-to-mouth, and Mami became even better in the kitchen, but Nino? Nino's cooking in on another level. It's a running joke in the MSY that her real power is her ability in the kitchen. She can take whatever is left over in a fridge, throw it together with some eggs, and make something delicious in minutes; when she has the time and resources... well, Kyouko is the liaison to Kyoto for a reason.

Still, contentt as she is, and much as she wants to just lie down and close her eyes for a few minutes, this is work, and serious work at that. She wouldn't have brought a telepath with her if this was routine; mind readers are scarce and Tanaka is the best they have.

Looking at the beautiful midnight-blue-haired girl on the other side of the table, she knows her instincts were right; this is not any magical girl.

She knows her as a rising star in the entertainment industry. Kyouko does not care much about cinema, but even she almost got something in her eye with Akane's acting in that drama Mami had talked her into watching. Akane's acting is supposed to be even better on stage, and she's surrounded by friends in high places - idols, directors, you name it.

How this extremely public person became a magical girl and managed to keep that hidden, for God knows how long, from apparently anyone but them, is a concerning mystery. That even the MSY only realized something was amiss by chance, because one of their contacts in Tokyo could vaguely sense a Soul Gem around when the actress was present, was downright disturbing.

And to top it all, she somehow was on the scene where some important politician managed to get himself killed.

Now that she's properly looking at her, Kyouko can't help but study her. Her features are delicate, almond-shaped blue-green eyes, long eyelashes, full lips, graceful hair. The tasteful if blurred make-up, the impeccable taste of clothing with the simple black dress, the nails... Kyouko swallows, wondering what she would look like if she had the time to care for her appearance.

And the blue hair... that striking, achingly familiar colour... it's hard not to stare at it.

Focus, she thinks to herself, shaking her head and forcing her eyes away, her cheeks warming.

However stunning she is, she is trouble. And though she seems to have calmed down somewhat, it's hard to be sure; this girl makes a living out of lying convincingly, after all, she thinks, biting an apple. And Kyouko knows better than to let her guard down.

She exhales deeply and starts.

"My name is Sakura Kyouko. Me and my crew - Nakano and Tanaka here- we're part of an organization of mahou shoujo, like you. Wasn't supposed to be like this though. We were gonna talk into you joining us, you know, the whole recruitment spiel."

Her voice hardens, and she looks into her Akane's eyes.

"But now? Now we really need to talk 'cause you're in deep shit. With you in police custody after that politician was found dead, well, now it's a interrogation we're having, not an invitation."

"You killed him, Kurokawa-san - or you think you did, at least", speaks the shortest of the trio gently. "I can probe minds; I avoid overdoing it for ethical reasons, but we are here mainly to evaluate whether you are a threat to other magical girls."

Yui's voice is as serene and objective as usual, even when it sounds for the first time in a long while like now. Kyouko never ceases to wonder how the other girl can keep the deadpan expression and calm voice even when saying something this jarring.

"I can wrench it from your mind, but would prefer if you explained why and how you did that, in your own words. From the beginning, if you will."

The next few moments are charged, as if everything in the room is holding its breath. Akane opens her mouth, then closes, as if gathering the courage to speak.

"I-I wasn't going to kill him. Not at first", says the blue-haired girl, slowly, looking down. "I just... I, I was going to expose him for what he really was..."

"And what was he?" Nino asks sharply, her posture rigid as she leans against the kitchen doorframe, arms crossed.

"It's... it's hard to explain. He was dangerous, and involved, in things in things... I couldn't just let it happen without... without doing something, and..."

"And why kill him, girl?!" Nino's voice is harsh, demanding, almost desperate. "You could've gone public with whatever you found! You're an actress, for god's sake - your reach would have been huge!"

"I TRIED!" Kyouko sees Akane's fists clenching and slamming the table, her voice finally really coming out in an outburst, her eyes welling up. "I tried! I really tried, ok? I did! I was close - getting closer - but then, then he - you know what?!" She gets up and points to one of the pictures on the wall. "Ask your sister! Ask Ichika! Ask her about Matsuoka Masahiro! About how he behaved with women, especially younger women - with her! Then you may begin, only begin, to understand what happened!"

Shit!, thinks Kyouko, already getting up and preparing to shield Akane, expecting Nino to charge her.

But, to her surprise, Nino doesn't lash out. She doesn't scream, doesn't move at all. Nino is paralysed, mouth agape, a pained look in her face.

A single tear runs down her cheek.

"Oh", Nino says, barely above a whisper.

She slowly sits down, wiping her face, clearly struggling with the revelation.

"I'm... sorry. I had no idea, I..."

Her voice dies down as she looks down, guilt and horror in her face. Yui, meanwhile, as calm as ever, has not moved from her chair.

"Let her talk, Nino-san. She clearly is no cold-blooded murderer. Will you proceed, Kurokawa-san?"

Thank God I insisted on having her, thinks Kyouko.

"Just... let's all just breathe a bit", Kyouko says, exhaling.

A brief pause follows, the room heavy with unspoken thoughts and terrrible realizations.

A minute later, Akane, somewhat recomposed, starts telling her story.

"Well... it started just after Christmas. I had... had literally just become this, like you. And... I fought my first demon infestation... in an abandoned factory in Tokyo... and found something". She shakes her head slightly, trying to steady herself. "It wasn't just those creatures, though. There were people there, homeless I thought. But it didn't... look right."

"How so?" Kyouko's frown deepens. She knows what living in the streets is like. If this rich girl...

Akane lets out a small, bitter laugh.

"Homeless people usually don't have pinboards with faces of artists and politicians with strings connecting them. Or tons of explosive substances, military-grade weaponry, and large amounts of pamphlets with a fanatic, fascist view for Japan and the world, calling on the people to rebel against the 'communists' that 'rule' everything from the 'deep state'. And they certainly don't keep media personalities in front of an online camera, about to be executed."

The sarcasm drips from the new girl's voice as much as the defensiveness. Kyouko is about to respond in the same tone, until she realizes, her eyes widening - she knows what it's about.

"You're - is this the one that blew up? The steel mill? With that YouTuber?"

"Mem-cho, yes. It took me a while to understand why they targeted her. They were impoverished middle-aged, middle-class people... probably unemployed salarymen, ruined shopkeepers, this sort of thing, the clothing was good but extremely old and worn, not the sort of people who are her public or even watch much YouTube."

She grimaces.

"Then I saw the symbols."

"The Rising Sun", says Yui, voice laced with understanding.

"Yeah. And another, of the goddamn Unification Church. Are you aware of what they are?"

"Uh. The weirdo Korean church? The one that keeps on asking people for money and makes mass weddings? What about them?", asks Kyouko, confused.

"They're not just that." Nino, having calmed down, fidgets with her hair, eyes unfocused in thought. "They're accused of money laundering, human trafficking, spiritual sales, racketing... the whole gamut. And they have suspicious ties with a lot of businessmen and politicians... don't you remember when Prime Minister Abe was assassinated in 2022? The killer said it was because he wanted to hurt the Unification Church..." she looks into Akane's eyes, slowly starting to understand.

"And," starts Akane again, "that brought a lot of pressure on the Church, and the connections of the Church, specially in the LDP, which rules the country almost without pause since the war, to the public debate... and on the 2024 elections, a lot of LDP politicians with ties to the Church lost their seats. Matsuoka Masahiro was one of them."

She sighs and looks down, sad smile on her face.

"Those people in the abandoned plant didn't have the financial, logistical, or, dare I say, even mental conditions to get enough fertilizers to make the amount of explosives I could smell... it must have been like five tons from the smell and the size of the room they were in. I never felt so suffocated in my life."

Akane grimaces again, a nauseous face, remembering the smell.

"I'm almost certain it was ammonium nitrate, and someone had acquired that amount and brought it to them with trucks from the markings in the yard. The pamphlets were in excellent paper... and they had a very distinctive pistol, a Sig Sauer, which is only used by the military."

"So there was someone else involved, with the money and the connections to create that whole damn militia. Ok, it's starting to make sense" says Kyouko, finishing the third apple and picking a biscuit to chew. "But why Matsuoka? Why not someone local from Tokyo itself?"

"Many... many small details." She raises her hand and starts to count with her fingers. "One, the smell of urine could only be ammonium nitrate, which is used as fertilizer for agriculture... among other things for barley, which is used mainly for shochu... and Fushimi is famous for not only its sake, but also it shochu."

"It could have been other crops, however, no?" Yui's voice interrupts, as soft as always. "Rice uses it too, and the whole country plants rice. How did you know it would be Kyoto?"

Again, Kyouko feels how Tanaka is underappreciated. She always knows when to speak and when to be silent. She can almost merge into the background and let people feel more at ease, she can scare the hell out of you with her silence... Of course you need impactful extroverts like Homura, Mami or herself to do fiery speeches, but without her, the MSY would be way behind.

"Because of the second detail. The pamphlets were in unexpectedly refined, clearly expensive paper, the sort you buy for stuff like calligraphy - not the stuff you print pamphlets on, unless you're rich and want to show off some sort of traditionalism. I have... access to a paper specialist, who told me it was Uji paper... which is produced in this area."

Kyouko and Yui look quizzically at Nino, who nods silently.

"Then there's the third detail. The factory was abandoned for decades, but the yard had very recent, very deep tire marks, and many of them... so the fertilizer was moved by trucks, and all at once instead of a little at a time. So we're looking at someone who had a whole lot of trucks; not just someone rich, but someone in some sort of business that needed constant, mass, long range delivery."

Jesus Christ. Who the hell is this girl?, Kyouko thinks, almost scared.

"Four, it was someone who had both Unification Church and far-right sympathies, so I knew I was likely an LDP member, possibly even an affiliate of Nippon Kaigi" - the blue-haired girl says the last name almost as if she was spitting, "and five... it was someone that had some sort of connection to security forces, enough that they could arrange for a military-grade gun without attention."

Again Kyouko and Yui look at Nino, who scowls and looks askance, but nods after a while.

"It's... plausible. He did make favourable comments towards the Church, he was a noted traditionalist and made... questionable remarks about what Japan did to women in the War, he was a member of some committee related to the military... and he owned Seiryu Shuzō, a luxury alcohol company in Fushimi that produces barley shochu. And the company does deliver its products nationwide with its own fleet. B-but..."

Nino swallows hard and again looks straight at Akane, but this time her expression is very different - almost pleading.

Did she personally know that guy or something?, Kyouko thinks to herself absentmindedly.

Yes she did, comes Yui's voice inside, startling Kyouko. Not particularly well, but he was famous around here, and he was her client - our client. So this is complex for her.

Come on, Yui, I told you I don't like it when you just get in, she thinks back, annoyed, glaring at the twin-tailed girl, who just shrugs, eyes never leaving the other two girls.

"...but how could you be sure, Kurokawa? Certainly other people would fit this profile, right? Barley shochu is produced in other places, and maybe the paper was just bought from here... did you have solid proof?"

Akane breathes deeply and takes a moment before slowly answering.

"...no. No, I didn't, and you're right. There were other possibilities. And that's why I came to Kyoto, to try and find solid proof. But... but then everything went wrong."

The blue-haired girl stops and looks down, looking ashamed? Hard to say, thinks Kyouko.

"We need to take a moment", says Yui, standing up, her tone shifting slightly. "Can you help me make some tea, Nino-san? I think we all could benefit from it before Kurokawa-san continues."

"Of... of course, Yui-sama. Follow me."

Kyouko, head spinning with the details, just sulks in her chair.