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

A/N - Going on a biz trip from the 15th through the 24rd. Expect updates to be sparse through the rest of June.

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My hands were riddled with small scrapes and nicks, my face a mottled canvas of bruising and cuts, but I walked on, the sharp tang of coppery blood in my mouth, a grim reminder of the fight I’d just been in an hour ago. The lamp posts cast a dim, ghostly pallor on the quiet suburban street, their light dancing across the pavement, bouncing off wet patches from an earlier downpour.

My body was a walking catalog of minor injuries - a testament to the hellish brawl Willis and I had just put each other through. But I walked on, the siren call of home, of a soft bed, and familiar faces growing stronger with each staggering step. The street was almost serene, my own personal purgatory under the somber street lamps.

I shook as I fumbled with my keys and opened the door, stumbling into a well-lit home and the chatter of television. The inhabitants had shuffled around the room, but they had clearly been cozied up all day.

Carrie was draped on the couch, her customary sneer replaced with a rare, vulnerable worry. The haughty, rich girl demeanor was momentarily forgotten, replaced by a simple high-schooler fraught with the uncertainty of life's curveballs.

On the other side of the room, Talia was sitting in an overstuffed armchair, her eyes barely open, her body slumped in a way that spoke of long hours nursing her magical fatigue. She had dark circles underneath her eyes, and looked borderline anemic.

And then there was Natasha, sitting on the other side of the couch from Carrie. Nat had retreated into a blanketed cocoon of quiet introspection, her eyes darting around the room.

"I'm home," I rasped out, my voice sounding foreign in the silence of the room.

“Ikki? Oh my god, what happened to you?!" Talia's voice held a note of alarm as she shot up from her chair, fighting off the lingering fatigue. Her eyes were wide, taking in my beaten state.

“Got into a scrap," I mumbled, trying to brush off the concern that laced her tone. I sunk into a vacant chair, feeling the comforting embrace of worn-out upholstery.

Carrie rose from her seat, her icy purple eyes holding a gleam of scrutiny as she took in my bruised state. "My goodness, you look like absolute hell," she said, her voice holding a note of concern.

I offered her a lopsided grin. "Yeah, well... You should see the other guy. Carrie? Your older brother. Is. An asshole."

The room sank back into silence, the tension from earlier creeping back in. I could see Natasha from the corner of my eye, curled up in a fetal position as she picked at her hands. She looked at me with concern, and I felt a pang of guilt.

"Boys," Carrie sighed while she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Can't you settle your differences without an unwarranted brawl?"

"Easy for you to say," I shot back. "You weren't there. I was just walking down the street when he came at me and slammed me into a wall. Accusing me of doing something to you yesterday. I tried to reason with him, but you know how Willis is." I sighed, running a hand through my hair, winced as my fingers met a tender bump.

"I know my brother can be a bit... hot-headed and protective," Carrie said, shifting uncomfortably on her feet. It was a rare moment of honesty from her, a glimpse into her life that she never let on. "I apologize for his behavior, Ikki."

"Thanks, Carrie," I said, looking her in the eyes with a sigh. "I genuinely appreciate that."

Silence washed over the room, tension in the air growing thicker as everyone seemed lost in their thoughts. Morada lay still on the futon, her presence a grim reminder of the battles we were fighting, both physical and emotional.

In the corner of the room, Natasha had come out of her cocoon of silence. Her voice, when it came, was a hoarse whisper. "Ikki," she began, her hands wringing nervously in her lap, "Are you... are you okay?"

A simple question, but a loaded one. Was I okay? After the fight, after all that had happened in the past week? After witnessing my sister fall off a goddamned bridge, the destruction of the portal home, Natasha's breakdown, Midori’s amnesiatic teleport, and my own bloody brawl? Was I okay?

"I'll live, Nat," I reassured her, managing a weak smirk. “Willis and I do have a little sit-down session with Principal Egan tomorrow, however.”

Talia rushed by my side, her warm hand resting lightly on my battered shoulder. I looked up at her, the worry etched on her face as clear as day. "I can't heal you, Ikki," she murmured, her voice heavy with regret. "The spell I used on Morada took too much out of me. And it’s still in effect, technically."

"I understand, Talia, and I wouldn’t ask for it now that I know how much it drains you," I said, patting her hand gently. It was a hollow, empty attempt at comfort, but the best I could muster given the situation. "Just rest and take it easy, okay? I'll be fine."

Carrie stared at me silently, before walking to the kitchen, opening and closing a glass cabinet in one methodical movement. After what seemed like an eternity, she reappeared, a first-aid kit clutched in her hands.

"Let me help," she said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. I opened my mouth to protest, but she shot me a look that said 'shut up and let me help' in no uncertain terms. "I might not be able to cast healing spells, but I know how to patch someone up."

I nodded and sat still as Carrie knelt down next to me, her hands surprisingly soft as she began to clean the cuts on my face.

The sting of the antiseptic made me wince, but I bit back the protest forming on my lips. In the corner of my eye, I could see Natasha watching us, her own eyes wide and full of worry. I gave her a weak smile, my lips forming a 'I'm okay' that I wasn't entirely sure I felt.

Carrie sighed in irritation as she dabbed away, “I’ll give that bonehead a talk. It’s my fault for worrying him. I’m sincerely sorry for that.. But not until later tonight. He needs to stew on this.”

Willis was a hothead, but he was worried for his sister and Natasha. It didn't excuse his actions, but it was a reminder that even the biggest jerks had something they cared about.

The heiress finished up with the first-aid kit, her movements efficient and careful. I couldn't help but notice her hands shaking slightly as she re-packed the kit. As much as she put up a strong front, Carrie was affected too. It was a side of Carrie I hadn’t seen before, one that showed she was more than just the arrogant heiress facade she wore like a second skin. There was a softness to her, a tenderness that she rarely showed.

Natasha giggled from her corner, a weak and shaky sound, but a sound nonetheless. We all turned to her, surprised.

"You used to patch me up when I hurt myself training," Natasha said, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. "Back before everything... happened."

"I haven’t forgotten," Carried admitted quietly.

The tension in the room dropped a notch, a silent acceptance of the bridge we had all just crossed.

I turned my attention to the television. A low-budget Terran sci-fi show was playing, the volume turned down to a low murmur. It seemed bizarrely normal in contrast to the chaos our lives had been reduced to, like a beacon of mundanity in a storm of the supernatural.

“We’ve been marathoning Stellar Nebula Chronicles.” Carrie waved a dismissive hand at the TV. "Cliched alien races, overly dramatic monologues, and formulaic episodic writing. A perfect show to lose yourself in. And um, something Natasha got me into as a kid.”

I watched as a troupe of brightly costumed actors navigated an 'alien' landscape suspiciously reminiscent of a low-budget studio backlot. A single captain in orange was surrounded by rank and file crewmen in identical purple spandexes.

“Crew of the USS Endeavor, we stand on the precipice of the unknown, peering into a realm of limitless possibilities. It is in our nature, our DNA, to reach out into the void, to seek, to strive, to understand. We are explorers! We are not here because it is safe or easy, but precisely because it is hard and fraught with danger. The universe has a way of humbling us, of reminding us that we are but specks in the grand cosmic design. Yet, it is our indomitable spirit, our relentless pursuit of knowledge that has brought us here. So let's set our phasers to stun, and our minds to learn. To the stars and beyond!”

The starship captain made a rousing speech about the spirit of exploration, his dramatic stuttered pauses not quite landing. It was so tropey that I found it comforting.

“Episode twelve, season three. The Return of the Timu." Natasha smiled, her eyes glued to the screen. "This was my favorite."

"Even after all this time," Carrie mused, joining in, her eyes softening as she watched the characters dance across the screen. "I suppose some things don't change."

"It's hard to forget the good times," Natasha replied quietly.

I let out a small, tired chuckle, easing into the worn-out comfort of the sofa. A moment of peace, a moment of normality amidst the turmoil of magic, extradimensional invaders, and emotional chaos, it was... nice. Welcome, even.

“I wish we could forget the bad times just as easily,” I added, my gaze drifting to the comatose Morada.

The ghost of Morada's quirky jokes, giggling, and her extravagant outfits danced in my memory, a cruel mockery of her current state. It was a grim reminder of the stakes of our reality, of the dangers we faced daily.

After a beat of silence, Talia sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion and unshed tears. "If only," she murmured, her gaze never leaving Morada. "But perhaps it's the bad times that make us appreciate the good ones more."

Natasha looked away, her hands clenching tightly around the edge of her blanket. "Or they just remind us how much we've lost."

The truth in her words stung. I could see a hint of unshed tears shimmering in Carrie's eyes, a rare display of vulnerability. Natasha was right. Every battle we fought, every enemy we vanquished, it all came with a price. Loss. Pain.

"You know, the trouble with the Zandorian Tubers is that they're out of this world... but they never seem to quite land on your pal-anate!"

Then, a soft, muffled laugh echoed from the television. The captain had just made a corny dad joke about alien food. For a second, I could almost hear Morada's giggle joining in with the artificial laughter.

As if on cue, Talia let out a tiny chuckle. "Stellar Nebula Chronicles really is ridiculous, isn't it? They couldn't afford decent props, but they managed to hire a living theatrical ham for the captain."

Natasha cracked a small smile. "Yeah, Captain Dirkus did always have the best one-liners."

Carrie rolled her eyes. "Nat, you're obsessed. But I will admit... it has its charms."

A spark of levity kindled in the room, breaking the melancholic atmosphere. It wasn't much, but it was enough. We had faced worse, and we would face more. But for that one moment, we were just teenagers, laughing over a silly TV show. It was a break we all needed.

“I’ll get started on dinner,” Talia announced, rising from her chair with the grace of a swaying willow, her every movement echoing her fatigue. "It won't be anything fancy, just spaghetti bolognese, but it's comfort food and I think we all need a little comfort right now."

The mere mention of food made my stomach growl in response. I hadn't eaten anything since that sandwich from the school cafeteria, which hadn’t been actually substantive. The thought of a hot meal, however simple, seemed heavenly.

"That sounds perfect, Talia." Natasha's words were little more than a whisper, her fingers playing with the fringes of the blanket that was draped over her legs.

"Need help with anything?" Carrie's question took me by surprise. Her tone, her whole demeanor had softened since we’d rescued Natasha yesterday.

Talia smiled, shaking her head. "No, I'll manage. Just take care of Ikki and..." her eyes darted to the still figure of Morada on the couch, her voice trailing off.

"Sure thing," I nodded.

While Talia busied herself in the kitchen, the rest of us sat in silence, the soft glow from the television casting long, dancing shadows across the room.

"Hey, Ikki?" Natasha's voice was barely audible, but it sliced through the silence like a knife. "I...I'm sorry." The apology hung in the air, heavy with guilt and regret.

"For what, Nat?" I asked, my heart aching at the look on her face.

"For everything. For...for not being strong enough. For letting your sister fall. For being too slow. For—”

I cut her off, stepping in and giving her a tight hug.

"No," My voice was firm, a touch of frustration seeping through. "This isn't on you. We've all made mistakes, we've all had our failures, and we have to live with them. But this? This wasn’t your fault. I’ve run the scenario through my head a million times. It was mine. I didn’t have to come back to the bridge, but I wasn’t thinking. I wanted to see it through when we really wouldn’t have been much help. Remember, we're in this together. Okay?"

I held her at arm's length, looking at her directly in her sparkling green eyes. She looked broken, small, and I wanted nothing more than to mend the pieces.

She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping down to her hands. "Okay," she whispered, a fragile smile touching her lips. There was a sadness in her eyes that my words hadn't completely erased, but there was a touch of relief too.

I released Natasha from the hug, my hand lingering on her shoulder. "Just... take it easy, alright? We need you, Natasha. More than ever. Not Celestial Sonata. Just Natasha."

Her eyes widened, glistening with fresh tears, but she nodded again, her hand reaching up to cover mine. "I… I don’t. I, well. Thanks.”

The faint scent of cooking wafted from the kitchen, filling the room with the familiar smell of garlic and tomatoes. Then, the rhythmic chopping sounds echoed softly in the background, a reassurance that, despite everything, life still went on. It was a small comfort, but in that moment, it was enough.

"Well," Carrie broke the silence, pulling herself to her feet with a sigh. "I suppose it's time to set the table." It was a small task, but one she took up with the kind of seriousness that hinted at a deep desire to be helpful.

The sound of Talia's low hum drifted from the kitchen, mixing with the rustle of chopping and the gentle sizzle from the pan. The sound washed over us like a gentle tide, comforting and warm, adding to the strangely peaceful atmosphere that had settled over the room.

As the room filled with the aroma of simmering tomato sauce and garlic, I found myself drawn back to the past. Of childhood, even The smell was comforting, a remnant of simpler times.

How did it get to this point?

We were just a bunch of teenagers, caught up in a war we didn’t fully understand. We were young soldiers in a battle that we didn’t sign up for, but needed to participate in for survival. But for now, we were just kids, kids trying to navigate the complicated web of adolescence and horrific genocidal monsters.

On the surface, it seemed almost too normal, but it was anything but. I was here, in Talia and Midori's house, bruised and battered from a supernatural schoolyard brawl, while Carrie, the girl who could hardly stand my presence a few days ago, was in the kitchen with Talia, doing her part in the preparation of a simple spaghetti dinner.

And Natasha, one of the strongest magical girls in the world, was here too, trying to heal from the aftermath of her own internal battle.

Morada, our once vibrant, brilliant friend, was in a coma just a few feet away.

It felt surreal. We were surrounded by the scent of cooking and the comforting chatter from the kitchen, but we were worlds apart from the average teenagers. And yet, despite the strangeness of our situation, there was a sense of familiarity and normality.

It was a harsh reminder that, at the end of the day, we were still teenagers. We were allowed to find joy in the mundane. Allowed to laugh over a cheesy Sci-Fi show, to anticipate a simple dinner, to enjoy a moment of peace amid the chaos.

Carrie walked into the living room, her eyes flitting over each one of us as she moved to the kitchen with an air of nobility. She was a proud, resilient girl, every bit the tough, smarmy heiress, but the facade was showing cracks. Her normally haughty demeanor had given way to a softer, more compassionate persona, and it was surprising to witness. Still, it was interesting to see how she subconsciously slipped back into her ‘mean girl’ persona as she moved.

As I watched her retreat into the kitchen, my eyes landed on the first aid kit lying discarded on the coffee table. My gaze drifted from the first aid kit to my hands, the knuckles raw and bruised, stinging reminders of the fight with Willis. I flexed my fingers, wincing at the pain that shot up my arm. My knuckles were definitely bruised, and my right elbow was stiff and inflamed at the joint.

The quiet hum of the kitchen enveloped us, and Natasha shifted in her seat. Her eyes met mine, and the vulnerability in her gaze struck me to my core. A deep sadness resided there, but there was a spark of resilience, too.

She would always be Natasha, my friend, not Celestial Sonata to me. But I could still see the presence of the identity she hid behind buried deep within her. At the least, I hoped my words had given her some comfort, and had helped in some way to alleviate the guilt she carried.

Her eyes broke away from mine, dropping back down to her hands. She had lost so much in such a short time - her secret identity, her transformation catalyst, her magic, and almost her life.

A chuckle from the kitchen drew my attention. The sound was a soft whisper of a laugh that echoed in the otherwise quiet house. It was Carrie, her laugh light and airy, a sound that was so rare it was almost unheard of.

"What's so funny?" I called out, my voice echoing in the silence.

"Just something Talia said," Carrie replied, her voice muffled from the distance."Something about how you can’t chop onions without tearing up."

A sudden wave of laughter filled the room, and I couldn't help but join in, the tension from earlier washing away with each chuckle. The image of me, tears streaming down my face as I struggled against a simple onion as Talia giggled nearby was a nice memory.

"I'd like to see you do any better," I retorted, unable to keep the smile off my face. The atmosphere in the room had become lighter, the laughter serving as a temporary distraction from the trials we were all facing.

"Dinner is ready!" Talia's voice called out from the kitchen, a note of exhaustion still lingering in her tone. The aroma of the spaghetti bolognese wafted in the air, and my stomach growled in response.

We all made our way to the dining table, the clatter of cutlery and the murmur of soft conversations filling the room. The table was set with four plates and silverware, and a large bowl of spaghetti bolognese in the center. For a moment, it felt like we were just a regular group of teenagers gathering for a meal. The concerns of magic, monsters, missing loved ones, and horrific Chaos Beasts were put on pause.

Carrie started serving the pasta, still carrying that weird blend of haughty grace and warmth. Talia looked on with weary eyes that held an unspoken gratitude. Natasha, quiet and thoughtful, accepted her plate with a nod of thanks, her eyes distant but no longer lost as they were earlier.

We ate in silence for a while — I couldn't help but appreciate Talia's cooking - it was delicious, each bite a comforting blend of spices and flavors.

Carrie broke the silence first. "Thank you, Talia," she said, her voice softer than usual, her haughty demeanor replaced with genuine gratitude. "This is really good."

Talia managed a weak smile, a light blush coloring her cheeks. "I'm glad you like it."

"Isn't it?" I chimed in, "Talia's cooking is legendary." I meant every word of it. The comfort it offered was something no magical spell could replicate. In the middle of all this chaos, it brought a touch of homely warmth that we desperately needed.

"I didn't know you could cook so well," Carrie continued, her eyes filled with genuine surprise as she turned towards Talia. She paused for a moment, before adding, "I'm… I’m impressed."

Talia's response was a soft chuckle, followed by a weary smile. "Thank you, Carrie." A moment of acknowledgement, a simple connection. “Nothing quite warms the heart like some homemade sauce.”

Natasha's eyes met mine again, a glimmer of something akin to happiness suddenly shining in them. I gave her a small, reassuring smile, which she returned, the tiniest upward curve of her lips, a sure sign of progress. She stayed there, subconsciously balled up and tense as she left her plate untouched.

"Natasha, you need to eat," I said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. I pushed a plate of spaghetti bolognese towards her.

She nodded and reached out, bringing her plate closer. Then, she took a small bite, and a smile crossed her eyes as they widened. "Mmm! It's good," she said as she looked up at me.

"Ahhh, looks like our somber little food critic has spoken," I said, grinning. It was a gentle tease, one that I hoped would coax out a little more of the Natasha I knew and was starting to miss.

She smiled faintly, her gaze dropping back down to her plate. "Hey, it’s the perfect level of spicy," she murmured with a grin. “It’s good stuff.”

"I'm glad you like it, Natasha." Talia's voice was soft and sweet as she smiled at Natasha. “M… Midori balanced the seasoning for that recipe back in the day.”

Natasha looked back at Talia, and let out a small giggle. For the first time since her breakdown, Natasha seemed genuinely at ease.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Carrie crack a rare smile, her icy walls melting just a bit more.

The dinner went on smoothly, filled with soft chatter and comforting silence. The tantalizing aroma of the homemade bolognese sauce hung heavy in the air, and the warmth radiating from the people around the table helped ease the fog that had loomed over us the past couple of days.

As the evening went on, we found ourselves lounging around the living room, engrossed in the next episode of 'Stellar Nebula Chronicles'. The atmosphere was peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos that had been our reality only a few hours ago. In this tranquil space, we allowed ourselves to be just teenagers for a while.

Carrie, no longer a haughty, untouchable figure, leaned back against the couch, her arms folded behind her head. She was lost in the world of corny sci-fi tropes, her usually sharp eyes softened by the light from the television screen, and the sneer I associated with her nowhere to be seen. Natasha sat next to her, a safe distance maintained, engrossed in the action. And there was me, sprawled on the carpet, my eyes half-closed as I tried to keep up with the storyline.

My eyes fell on Morada, her unconscious form still lying on the couch. It was hard to see her like that, so still, so unlike her usual energetic self. Yet, even in sleep, she carried a certain elegance, an aura of strength that was impossible to ignore.

I shuffled to a seated position and reached out to touch her hand, feeling the coldness of her skin. My heart ached for her, and I found myself whispering a silent prayer, hoping against hope that she would wake up soon. I needed her, we all did. Her strength, her courage, her flamboyance – they were all an integral part of her and I sorely missed her presence.

Despite the gloom that Morada's condition cast, the room didn't feel as heavy as it should have. There was a strange sense of calmness that lingered in the air. It was a quiet understanding that no matter what, we had each other's backs. It was a reassurance that, no matter what happened next, we weren't alone.

Morada’s lavish, intricate, but torn dress draped over her, making her seem like a fairytale princess in a deep sleep.

"Hey guys? I think it's time for us to prepare for bed," Talia announced finally, her voice barely above a whisper. It was as if she was afraid to shatter the fragile calm that had settled over us.

The others nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of relief and exhaustion. We had all fought our battles today, each in our own way, and the toll was evident in the tired lines on our faces.

Natasha was the first to stand, her movement slow and somewhat unsteady. I instantly rose, offering her my arm for support. Her hand was small in mine, her grip weak, but the happy glint in her eyes and soft smile said it all. She had a lot to process, a lot to heal from, but she was here, she was fighting, and that was enough for now.

"Goodnight, everyone," she mumbled, offering them a small wave with her free hand. Her voice was still shaky, but there was a strength in it that wasn't there before. “And… thank you all.”

Carrie nodded in her direction, a strange look in her eyes, a mix of concern and… admiration? "Goodnight, Natasha," she said, her tone softer than I'd ever heard before.

The change was subtle, but it was there. For all her rough exterior, I could see a gentle heart beating within Carrie now. It was like it'd jump-started out of nowhere.

We all watched as Natasha walked towards the downstairs guest room, her steps shaky but determined. I felt a pang of pride for her, for the resilience she was showing despite everything that had happened. As the door closed behind her, a silence fell over us. It wasn’t uncomfortable, rather, it was a silence of understanding, of shared pain, and of shared hope.

“I… I should prepare to go,” Carrie muttered.

“You sure?” Talia answered. “You can stay, if you’d like.”

Carried bit her lips, looking away before making eye contact with Talia.

“I think Tasha isn’t a danger to herself anymore. And honestly, I really owe my brother a talk. My father must be worried. I've been out all day and night and…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I can't put him through more stress and worry my brother. Not right now."

Talia nodded, “I understand, then. And… Carrie? Please don’t be afraid to reach out. You’re better than you think.”

Carrie managed a small smile, her icy exterior softening. "Thank you, Talia. I'll keep that in mind."

“Ikki,” Talia began, her voice ringing out as Carrie began to gather her things. "Could you help me move Morada to the upstairs guest room? I think she'd be more comfortable there."

"Of course," I nodded, rising to my feet. I gently scooped up Morada, her slender body light in my arms. She was still so cold, a stark contrast to her usual sunny personality. I followed Talia to the upstairs guest room, laying her down gently on her bed.

“Thank you,” Talia said, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“No problem, Talia,” I replied, “Hey… we’re all in this together, remember?”

She gave me a small, worried smile before we left Morada’s room, the sight of her unconscious form a somber reminder of how things weren’t entirely alright yet.

We came back downstairs to find Carrie fully dressed in her school uniform with a thick coat at the door.

She turned to us, a slight discomfort flickering across her face, "I should get going now... my driver has been waiting." Her gaze dropped to Natasha's closed door, a glimmer of concern in her eyes. "Please. Take care of her," she murmured, leaving the command hanging in the air as she stepped out into the chill night.

Her eyes met mine and there was a grudging respect in them. Then, walked outside to where her chauffeur waited, her figure disappearing into the night. Silence settled again, only broken by the quiet hum of the television.

Tonight, we had weathered a storm, found solace in each other's presence and the mundane.

As I finally settled on the couch for the night, I felt the weight of the day settle in. I drifted into sleep, the low hum of the television still playing 'Stellar Nebula Chronicles' in the background.

No matter how daunting the future seemed, no matter how rough the path, I had faith that we could handle it.

I knew we would face whatever came next. Together.