Origin: How I Became A Magical Girl’s Hapless Sidekick In A Craptastic World

Cleaning up the broken fence and getting the motorcycle carted into the workshop took a while, but we got it done. Spencer had gone home for the evening, so it'd just been Midori and Talia at the hideout. Thankfully, the two of them had elected to stay over rather than move me or wake me up.

Unfortunately, Dior was a mess after we got her off the bike, to say the least. Dior snapped awake immediately after Morada got off and didn't want to talk much about her experience. She told us that someone had surgically branded her with something to punish and control her before she'd even formed memories. Bathala had activated the spell during the encounter.

Dior hadn't even known that Bathala could do that to her, and the look of betrayal and pain was evident on her face. While I didn't know much about magic and the supernatural, it was apparent something incredibly powerful had been used to do this. Whatever it was, it sounded abhorrent and heinous. It was clear Dior had been violated at a very fundamental level, and this encounter was just the cherry on top.

Conversely, Morada didn't say much about what happened after we'd been forcibly removed from the field. She hugged Dior gently as we returned to the hideout and plopped onto the couch, running a hand through Dior's hair and sharing in her tears as the girl bawled her eyes out.

I just settled right next to Dior and gave her a tight hug as she began to break down. I didn't have a good idea of what to say, how to comfort either of them or even if what I was doing was right. All I knew was that I wanted to soothe them over a bit and help them heal. That was all that mattered to me.

Kuromaru, being the big lovable fuzzball he was, immediately dashed to our side and refused to leave Dior for even a moment. The second Dior broke down, he jumped onto her and nuzzled her hand. The black cat was relentless in his support; I could tell it meant a lot to Dior. She choked back her tears briefly as Kuromaru climbed onto her lap, and she buried her face into his fur.

I swear. Eerily acute intelligence and supernatural teleporting aside, Kuro was the best-damned cat I'd ever met.

The rain continued to pour on in the morning, but the mood had lightened. Despite the anxiety and scare we'd all experienced, we had come out alive to pick up the pieces, which was the most important thing to me.

We would heal, and we would move on. I hoped so, at least.

As the sun began to come up behind a cloudy overcast, we sat around the table in the kitchen. Talia had come up the street with a bag of groceries from the house. She gave Dior a worried look and rushed into the kitchen.

While Dior sobbed gently, Midori began to unpack milk, colorful cereal, and fancy-looking tins of tea to bring into the kitchen as the kettle went off with a sharp whistle on the stove. A minute later, Talia came over to Dior, humming soothingly, and poured her a big mug of tea.

Dior sniffled a bit before taking the cup and giving Talia a teary smile. Talia poured a cup for everyone else before going back into the kitchen.

I couldn't help but feel strangely uplifted.

Talia really knew how to take care of people.

The color slowly returned to Dior's face as the smell of tea and pancakes filled the air, and she stopped crying altogether. She seemed to be in a much better state than before, and she had a slight smile on her face as Talia poured her a big bowl of milk and cereal. Dior dug voraciously at the big bowl of fruity cereal before her. She
actually looked like the carefree girl I'd met a week after a bit, and I was glad to see that.

I sighed in relief and turned to look at Morada. She was perched up on the counter next to Midori, sipping at a cup of tea with a serene smile.

"You okay, Morada?" I called out to her.

She glanced up and gave me a confused look.

"Huh?"

"You're fine, right? Cause I know that was... real rough out there."

Her face softened, and she gave me a gentle smile.

"Oh... Yeah."

She chuckled, and I noticed she had smeared eye-shadow around her face. "Yeah. It was pretty intense."

"But... you came home at the end. I'm just so glad that you're okay, Morada."

I smiled back at her, and her expression softened a bit more. I could see her big yellow eyes twinkling and shining in the morning light as she bit her lips, looking away.

She spoke softly, "Those little girls though... they didn't get to go home."

I looked down and sighed. I decided not to think about it for a bit, but it ate away at me.

"No."

I could feel tears start to well up in my eyes. I could still remember their addled looks of terror in the transport truck.

Morada walked over to me. She wrapped her arms around me in a big, big hug.

"It's okay. You did the best you could. You don't have to beat yourself up over it."

I began to cry. I couldn't tell you why. I just did.

"You did fine... You really did, kiddo."

Her voice was soft and soothing as she spoke to me.

"Thanks, Morada."

"Hey, don't mention it."

She squeezed me for a second before letting me go. I wiped my eyes and gave her a big smile.

"No seriously, thank you."

"Yup."

She responded in a matter-of-fact tone.

I was still feeling a bit off and jittery, but the presence of this crew was reassuring in a way I couldn't really describe.

It felt like things would be okay in time. They'd never be entirely whole, but they'd be alright.

Dior had calmed down at this point and was quietly digging into her pancakes. Kuromaru was curled tightly on her lap, purring gently in sync with her breathing.

Even with the failure, all the stress, and the trauma...

We were alive.

We were together.

All things considered, it could have been worse.

I spent most of the day with Dior and Morada, drawing little sketches and talking with Dior about what sort of things she was interested in and what hobbies she had. I didn't know what I was doing: I was a high school student, not a therapist or a social worker.

But, I spent time with her showing her the basics of drawing and sketching, and her mood seemed to improve. She still had a way to go, but I felt she would eventually get past it. Morada was visibly amused by my amateur artwork, but she seemed to approve of my efforts to help.

Dior ended up smiling a bit more, which was a good sign. She still looked dazed and distant, but we successfully took her mind off the botched job and trauma. She even gave something of a belly laugh when I did a sketch of a happy Kuromaru for her.

Eventually, as things started to get dark and the storm passed, we all went our separate ways for the day. Midori and Talia went back to their house, and I walked home. I had no idea where Dior went off to, though.

The rest of the weekend thankfully passed without further incident.

It was nice to relax after that fiasco and return to my own bed after a week of insanity. I was still on edge, too — I had a nagging feeling that something terrible was on the horizon. Still, of course, nothing surfaced over the rest of the weekend.

I spent the rest of my free time that weekend doing my homework, doing chores like laundry and dishes, and checking the internet for the buzz on the low-level Chaos Event.
There were a lot of perplexed and upset people online, to say the least.

For every person who seemed to have a handle on it after the fact, some people had no idea what had happened and were frightened out of their minds.

A pointed thread noted that the event almost seemed coordinated, unlike most other Events that just dropped a bunch of monsters into a populated area out of nowhere. From comparing notes with each other, people had determined through crowdsourcing that multiple small rifts had opened up around the outside of the city's negentropy generators around the same time. Several weak Chaos Beasts made their way to the city from well over ten miles away, and around a hundred people died in this attack.

Many conspiracy theorists were having a field day, and making sense of anything was difficult. They said it seemed like their attacks had been deliberate, and their level of coordination defied explanation. It was hard to really discern what was plausible and not.

I had my own suspicions, but many details were still missing. It was hard to make a case after only one example, so I researched other subjects relevant to what we'd gone through. I spent most of my time searching the internet for information on the NovaGen Research Facility. The place had apparently been sealed off by the police after the Harbingers attacked. There wasn't much to be gleaned from online speculation either.

The place was a multi-purpose research facility that worked on various projects from medicine to Chaos mitigation and treatment strategies. The company had a stellar history and reputation. They also had an excellent track record of legal compliance. The company had existed independently without any regulatory sanctions or scandals for decades.

The closest thing to a blemish in their record had merely been a breach of contract. They'd been fined a few hundred thousand dollars when they'd poached a few researchers from another lab a decade ago. Other than that, nothing.

That seemed strange to me, considering the encounter the crew and I had on the road.

There was nasty competition from other companies in the same fields, such as drug generics. Other than that, finding any real dirt on the company was challenging. I could not find any solid proof or even speculation that the company was involved in secret fucked up experiments, let alone anything to suggest that they could be experimenting on kids. The company was very good at being above board and squeaky clean. It was almost like they were trying too hard to keep their reputation spotless. In fact, that was more suspicious to me than anything else.

It was frustrating, but there wasn't much I could do.

I found it difficult to accept that the company was completely innocent in all this. Then again, what did I know? I was just some kid with almost no real-world experience. Despite my best efforts, I was admittedly still just winging it.

I sighed and got to work on my homework. I still had a lot of things to deal with, and I had to keep my grades up for that scholarship. It would be a pain if I didn't have my grades to fall back on. I leaned back at the table and cracked open my textbook.

Maybe I was just being paranoid about the whole thing and obsessing over the details. I probably was, but the feeling of dread just wouldn't go away.

Sometimes, it was hard to ignore those feelings of foreboding. I wanted to believe that we were safe and free to just live our lives, but it didn't seem like that was the case. A person could go through years with nothing happening, sometimes. Still, a ludicrous amount of things had occurred in this week alone.

It was hard to accept that it was all just a coincidence.

I sighed.

I did my best to bury those feelings and focus on my homework.

I still had a lot of work ahead of me, and I couldn't afford to be distracted by things I couldn't do anything about.

I'd just have to do my best to push ahead.

The following day, I got out of bed, put on my school uniform, and made breakfast. I was back to feeling okay and slept like a baby. No weird, surreal nightmares about getting chased down hallways or anything like that.

Thank goodness.

There was only a little fog in the air that morning, and most of the storm that'd raged on all weekend seemed to have abated. I grabbed my schoolbag and headed out the door. Hopefully, it'd just be a typical Monday.

I was slightly behind my usual schedule but still made it to school on time.

As I walked up the stairs and over the bridge to the school's front doors, I noticed many other students staring at me, whispering to each other as they did. I sighed. Honestly, what was it about me that drew this kind of attention?

I had no idea what was happening, so I could only assume the worst. At this point, there really wasn't anything new anyone could say about me that I hadn't heard before.

People aren't all that creative in general.

Or so I thought.

I, of course, still had no idea what they were saying, and I couldn't read their lips, so I decided to put it out of my mind and just get on with my day.

As I walked through the front doors, the chatter behind me stopped dead. Everyone saw me, and I could feel their eyes burning into the back of my head. It was really creepy, and I felt like I was about to be attacked at any moment.

What was going on?

I had no idea.

Whatever it was, I was sure I was getting a lot of dirty looks and glares.

"Hey filthy Drifter," I heard some blond-haired red-eyed Caucasian kid around my size call out as I stepped through the entrance. He was lounging around some lockers with three other kids who looked like the preppy types. "What are you doing coming back here?"

I sighed. Of course, I had to deal with this first thing in the morning.

"Fuck off," I said, my voice cold and annoyed.

"Jeez, way to be a dick about it," he said. There was a cackling chorus of snickers around him.

I sighed. "Whatever. What do you want? I'm running behind schedule."

Who the hell is this kid anyway?

"Don't you have any shame?" he asked. "Coming back here, covered in filth and stench, after everything you've done?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.

"I don't expect you to have any shame," he said. "You're nothing but an animal, after all."

"Look, why don't you tell me what's going on here? At least give me a little bit of context," I said. "I don't even know who you are or what you want."

"Context?" he laughed. "We're talking about you, you stupid animal! Word's gotten out that you were the one who organized the trip to the museum last week. You know, when your terrorist buddies attacked it?"

I was stunned. "How did you…? What are you even talking about…."

"Word gets around, slum rat," he said, snapping his fingers. "I'm surprised you didn't think of that yourself before you tracked your filthy shoes through this school."

That threw me for a loop. The only people that knew about my involvement, to my knowledge at least, were the teachers and the people who were chaperoning my work-study.

It didn't make any sense.

"Bro, what the hell are you even talking about? I helped a bunch of teachers out with a full day's itinerary. I had to get several stitches after I got whacked across the head with a gun, and here you are with your bullcrap?"

"Come on," the kid said, sneering at me. "You know you were the one who hatched that whole plan to attack the museum. You're a fucking terrorist!"

"You're insane," I said. "I had nothing to do with any of that for crying out loud."

I had to get to class, and all these assholes were slowing me down.

"Everyone knows you're a terrorist now," he said. "You come in here with your gun toting ways and your terrorist buddies, trying to pretend like you're some bigshot hero? Ha! You're nothing but a filthy traitor who's trying to infiltrate the school and cause trouble for us. Well, we're on to you, and you're going down. You're damn lucky we don't deport you this instant for what you've done. You're a disgrace to this school, and you've done nothing but bring it into disrepute."

I was so taken aback by what he said that I could barely believe my ears.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said. "You're seriously trying to accuse me of terrorism?"

"C'mon, the school is talking. They know you're a terrorist now," another boy jeered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I wasn't even bothering to argue. This was just insane, and it wasn't worth my time.

Of course, the four of them moved to surround me.

"You know what, fuck this," I said. "Stop wasting my time."

They grabbed me, and I pulled away from them, but they were all much bigger than I was.

We were starting to attract a lot of attention as people in the hallway began to stop and stare.

"Come on, guys," I said. "I've got places to be."

"You've got shit to do?" an Asian boy laughed. "Get a load of this kid's entitlement. Are you fucking kidding me?"

Was I going to be physically attacked in the school first thing in the goddamned morning?

It felt like things were spiraling out of control.

"You need to learn some humility, you piece of shit!" the Asian guy snarled.

"Can't hear you ♪!" I said happily and sang a little tune while doing a quick silly dance.

"You little shit," the boy said, moving forward and grabbing at my collar.

I hopped off the momentum of my silly dance and ducked out of the way, quickly moving around him.

He tripped over my foot, crashing into the kid behind me. I immediately sprinted down the hall, desperate to get away.

The boys were all shouting at me, and as I sprinted by classrooms, kids started to look out and point at me.

"Oh my god, look at that freaky kid, he's a freak," I heard some girl behind me say, and I almost felt bad. Almost.

"After him! Stop him! He's a terrorist!" the blond asshole behind me shouted, and all his buddies were right there with him.

I ran faster, trying to dodge their grubby hands, but I was still hurt from the previous week. My breathing was labored, and I was starting to feel dizzy.

Why did they have to pick me? Why me, of all people? I was just some random kid who wanted a sunnier tomorrow.

I felt someone tackle me from behind, and I did my best to tuck into a roll to escape his tackle and get out of there.

I managed to stand up quickly, but they tackled me again as I escaped his grip. I kicked and pushed, using what basic martial arts and grappling I'd been taught growing up on Earth, but it wasn't enough.

I was already exhausted. I was already hurt.

One of the boys reared back with a telegraphed punch, and I shifted my hips to dodge out of the way at the very last second. He yelped in pain as his fist crashed into the floor tiles, his fingers scraping and crunching.

I kicked my hips back to try and escape, but it wasn't any good. I was already losing. I was outnumbered and outsized. I was probably going to take the beating of my life here.

"Hey, knock it off, boys!" a girl's voice called out.

The boys slowed down and stopped, glancing over their shoulders.

"Seriously, you guys are being stupid. Let him go," the voice said. "This isn't like you; you know better than this, Jeremy. Kevin, David. Brad."

It was a familiar voice—one that made my stomach drop. One that made the blood run cold. I knew that voice. It was a voice like a siren's call. A voice laced with honey — a voice that commanded respect and love.

A voice that made my whole life here into a joke, owned by someone who was firmly on my shitlist. One of the people I would least expect to come to my aid.

Violet eyes flashed toward me through the dim school light, and those glossy pink lips curled into a cruel, smug smile.