Amila

Even under bright sunlight, I still felt nervous walking by the dozens of goddess statues along these streets.

"Heehee! Look at this one!" Trixie buzzed around a goddess' head whose painted face had begun peeling off. "She's flaking more than Morikawa after a sunburn!"

"Hey," Tsukino standing nearby said. "Don't mention him unless there's a good reason."

"Aw, but why!"

"Because it would make Aizawa uncomfortable."

"Huh? I never really care—" But the trench coat woman sent me a death glare to play along. "E-Erm, the past is the past. Let's focus on our futures."

"Geez, fine . . ." The little pixie drooped as she perched on my shoulder. "I just feel like I'm forgetting Morikawa little by little."

But no one replied to her comment. How could I even? Talking on behalf of someone I didn't even know wasn't feasible. Theories buzzed around in my head, but humoring them would have to wait until later.

We all paced through downtown Oro Fantasma. The rundown district where beggars would try putting their hands on us soon faded as we entered a wealthier area. Children and townsfolk alike were all smiling, waving hello to us. Even Tsukino conjured a rare smile back.

"Seems livelier here," I said while we walked.

"People tend to be happier if they don't worry about food."

"Huh. I don't believe that's true."

"Why?"

I clasped my chin to think. "Well, it's a combination of factors, but I think it's based on someone's outlook—their perspective on life. People can be happy even if they live under a bridge, and others aren't satisfied even when they have everything. So food is basically just one factor to consider."

"Don't try sounding profound; it's cringe," she said. "I see what you mean though."

"Yeah. I guess it's easier if you understand divorce rates from our world. Around sixty percent of marriages dissolve, but that's factoring in second marriages onwards. The success rate of first marriages is way higher."

For just a moment Tsukino's face looked impressed with me. Then she fake coughed into her knuckles. "Ehem. I assume your old job granted quite the range of experiences."

"I interviewed a lot of people. And learned about people."

"Maybe Aizawa is street smart!" Trixie on my shoulder giggled.

"Well let's hope he's prone to understanding what he'll need for this new job."

Another ten minutes strolling through town led us towards a tall, elegant metal gate where a mansion lurked behind. Crowds had gathered, many holding notepads or Memory Stones, which made me assume these were other journalists.

"Look behind. It's them." They all whispered with each other, glancing towards Tsukino and I. Scornful, judgemental eyes raided us without remorse. Not a single person said a greeting as we tried shimmying into the crowd.

"Are these trenchcoats that recognizable?" I told Tsukino.

"Our reputation working for Borsalino precedes us."

"The heck kinda reputation do we have?"

When we found an empty spot by a brick wall, we isolated ourselves away from everyone to talk.

"Well?" I asked her.

Tsukino seemed bored as ever. "Borsalino—the company—has notoriety for once employing guerilla journalism. Getting in people's faces, conning for interviews, etc."

"So you did that stuff too?"

"No. I'm from the second generation of field agents. We're trained not to be so zealous, though Borsalino's infamy is remembered by our competitors."

Even now some of the other journalists were peering towards us, disgusted or with curiosity. We were like legends that they couldn't take their eyes off.

"That's Tsukino. Seems she has a new partner," they whispered.

"What happened with Morikawa?"

"I heard rumors, but . . ."

Their gossip ceased when the mansion's metal gate groaned open. Children dressed in white tunics poured out, singing, as they all tossed flower petals from their baskets. Every journalist started snapping photos with Memory Stones while the performance continued.

"Amila, Amila," the children all sang. "She was there for me, she'll be there for you! Believe in her like she believed in us! Now we have a home, when before we were homeless! This is our song to thank her!"

Tsukino and I shifted through the crowd to get a better view. We managed to nudge our way to the front when—

"Hey, start recording too." Tsukino elbowed me.

"Oh yeah. Sorry." I pulled out my Memory Stone and aimed towards singing kids. The clear cube with a red dot focused on each of those smiling faces.

"Amila, Amila." Children danced in a musical act. "Amila is our friend, and she could be yours too! So go on and say hello!"

From the mansion's front doors, a red carpet rolled all the way to the gate where journalists watched in awe. Each person had their Memory Stone readied as a woman started strutting towards us.

Is that . . . ? I began shaking. Even though it was just my imagination, I felt unbelievable pressure with each step the woman took. An immense aura radiated from her body that triggered a fight-or-flight response in me. But just when I started sweating, Tsukino's hand gently grasped my shoulder.

"Sorry," she whispered. "Being overwhelmed is normal when you first meet one of the Heroes. They're in a whole other league of power compared to us."

"That's . . . One of Sin Nombre's Heroes?" I pointed my Memory Stone straight at her.

The fashion diva approaching us flashed a warm smile. Her voluminous pink hair—flowing waves that poofed like cotton candy—coalesced down her shoulders where a shawl of fox fur hung. But beneath that exterior were modest nun clothes tapering most of her curves.

The kids stood on the sides of the red carpet, bowing their heads respectfully while Amila passed by.

"Ara, ara," she said in a cutesy voice towards the journalists. "It looks like so many guests visited us today. Thank you all for coming."

I was still too nervous to try meeting her sapphire eyes. But as she scanned the crowd, her gaze met mine for a moment; and she winked.

Tsukino beside me immediately gave me a stink eye.

Eh? What did I do?

While confused thoughts flourished, I saw an old man with a long, white beard step out from the crowd. He wore a brown suit and walked with a cane.

"Ah, Mister Mayor," Amila said. "You didn't have to come out here yourself."

"Nonsense," he half-coughed. "It wouldn't be befitting as Oro Fantasma's mayor to not thank our benefactor in person."

The old man and Amila both posed together for photos from journalists. Everyone tried huddling near the front for better pictures, while other reporters jotted into their notepads. Even Tsukino was busy writing something.

Is this cube working? I took what pictures I could, unsure if anything even looked good. I wasn't used to paparazzi-esque reporting since this was a new experience in more ways than one.

After the photoshoot finished, children came up to reporters and started handing out white flowers—daisies. A little girl smiled as she handed me her last one, before she and her friends all ran back towards the distant mansion.

"Oh! Can I have that flower?" Trixie on my shoulder said.

"Here, go crazy."

The pixie nabbed her daisy and immediately started eating it. Nomnom sounds rang right next to my ear which annoyed me.

"Pay attention," Tsukino said. "They're starting again soon."

"Right." And I focused my Memory Stone on Amila and the mayor.

"Ehem," he told the journalists, "as you all know, we're here today to celebrate the opening of Miss Amila's tenth orphanage in this country. She graciously funded this endeavor with her earnings as one of Sin Nombre's Heroes."

Must pay big bucks. I let the Stone focus on that fashionista again.

Amila played with her rosy hair before speaking. "G-Geez, mayor. All I did was buy an old mansion and repurposed it. The church is helping pitch in for the upkeep too."

"It's still a favor Oro Fantasma won't soon forget."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Now, I suppose I'll take some questions from these lovely journalists."

A brunette's hand shot up first. "Yes. With the ongoing ceasefire, how many more orphanages do you expect to open?"

"Hmmm . . . Ideally, I'd like to open one in every town eventually. Wartime displaced many children who need a loving home now."

A mustached man raised his hand next. "How does this orphanage compare to yours in Dos Noches?"

"This facility is unfortunately more humble, considering Dos Noches is a much larger city. But we've retrofitted the mansion with proper amenities, including building a sister house to shelter even more children."

"Thank you." As the moustache man lowered his hand, another in the crowd shot up.

Every journalist gazed in shock at Tsukino whose hand out sped everyone else's. It was undeniable—a commanding force that attracted Amila's attention.

But for the first time, Amila flinched as she stared towards Tsukino, annoyed. A silent moment of animosity sparked between both girls, like bad blood lingered, before Amila was forced to call on her.

"Y-Yes, the Borsalino woman may speak."

"Thank you." Tsukino lowered her hand. "If I may inquire, can you elucidate how you continue managing ten orphanages while still carrying out your Hero duties?"

"O-Obviously, I leave behind managers to oversee things while I'm away."

"No. I meant as in, aren't you spreading yourself too thin? Even during peace time? The other three Heroes do not have such obligations. I'd be worried if a Hero had to choose between defending their orphanages or defending the country."

Amila's awkward smile strained itself. But she just laughed off the tough question. "Church authorities have already approved everything. This is all for bettering our lovely communities after all."

Tsukino didn't seem satisfied. But she nodded just to conclude the topic.

All I could do was watch on. Didn't know she had strong feelings about this.

"Anyway!" Amila said, smiling again. "That'll be all the questions for now. How about we shift to what you've all been waiting for?"

"Grapes?" Trixie on my shoulder said.

But barely anyone heard her little voice over the crowd's excitement brewing. They all watched butlers march out from the mansion along the red carpet, until an inviting pathway formed.

Amila gestured everyone to follow her. "Come on! Let's all enjoy a tour of what this mansion can offer!"

Eager journalists joined a line behind her, while I hung back with Tsukino to see what she'd say.

"Ughhh. This is our job, so let's just do it," she sighed.

"Yay! Pretty mansion tour!" Trixie cheered. "Maybe they'll hand out grapes!"

"Not feeling sleepy yet?" I said.

"Nope! Maybe I'll take a nap in your trench coat if I get bored though, hehe."

And with that, we all followed behind the crowd funneling into the mansion's entrance. Then both doors closed behind us.