THIS AIN'T WHAT YOU WANT (1)

SLAAAAAAAM

The ground shakes beneath my feet. I feel the steel handle of my warhammer reverberate as it crashes into the ground. Beneath it, the head of an Anxi-- or at least, the watercolor-pastel paint splatter of slop that once made up an Anxi's head.

....Eugh. So gross.

No matter how many times I do this, I always find my stomach twisting at the sensory vomit that lays before me. My mask prevents any of the viscera from reaching my mouth, and the autumnal cinnamon-vanilla mix laid inside the beak prevents me from taking in that foul stench... but I still remember. Mom had fought and killed one, after all, back when I couldn't fight for myself. But that smell... a sickening mix of rotting meat and cold sweat.... the memory of it still sits with me, always threatening to creep in and override the warm and inviting blend that's in place to block it out.

That, and I always feel uncomfortable watching its four legs spasm as its nervous system shuts down.

But, it's for the greater good, I think. The poor thing gets put out of its misery, no longer a threat to any of us lucky enough to not have turned. Is that not what doctors do? Give patients a merciful end after all treatment has failed?

...

I tilt my head to the side, idly pondering my reflection in the glass window of the nearby clothing store.

As you can surmise, I'm wearing a plague doctor mask. It wasn't my idea, but honestly? I've grown fond of it. Helps give us a unique look, and it goes a long way to make the hooded nurse gowns we all wear make just a bit more sense-- even if the apron makes it feel more like a maid outfit, if anything.

I just wish it made me feel pretty. Waves of euphoria hit me from time to time, but other times-- such as right now --my short, shabby frame and lack of curves do very little to make me feel good about myself. The Anxi viscera doesn't help, either.

Though, uh, being honest... I'll admit the witch hat still feels really nice~

I twirl my hair, curling one of the wavy brown strands around my gloved finger as I shift my posture to be more relaxed, more self-curious. I think it's the fact I can't see my face that helps me feel better, honestly. I usually let my bangs grow out long for that reason; I can't stand seeing how tired I look. I get good sleep, my eyes just naturally look like I could use more coffee. Or antidepressants, I guess. Either would be nice, right about now.

...Heheh.

As I stop to admire how my dress feels against my body, a small tingle of euphoria manages to creep in, like a sunbeam breaking through the clouds of a once-rainy day.

...D-does that make me fickle?

ccrrrraaaaaakkkkkakakakakakkk

Before I can put any thought into that, the sounds of bones cracking and popping jolts me back to the present.

Ah-- goddammit! That's the annoying thing about Anxi's-- they can reform, like the aftershock of an earthquake. Not always, but enough times to be annoying.

I swing my hammer over my shoulder, re-entering a combat stance. This one's a quick one, so I need to concentrate-- with a hammer this big, I can't exactly afford to lose focus, especially since I'm on my own here.

Closing my eyes for just a moment, I listen to my surroundings. The streets are quiet, as you'd expect this late in the evening. But right now, I'm listening for the pitter-pattering of an angry beast.

...

...

There it is. To my left, readying to charge.

I drop my hammer to the ground, putting the full weight of my body into one decisive swing-!!

SLAAAAAM

Home run~! The Anxi is sent flying, crashing into the nearby wall. ...Was that too morbid of me?

W-well, regardless, I still need to finish it off. It's not moving, but I don't want to take any chances. I take off, running for where the beast landed, ready to put it out of its-

!!

My body lurches as I'm thrown to the ground, dropping my hammer in the process. Was it... faking being out for the count?? T-that's a new one...!!

Its glassy, lifeless eyes stare down at me as it bares its fangs, ready to tear into my flesh.

I swing my forearm in front of me, taking the bite head-on. My arm stiffens as the beast punctures both my sleeve and glove, pushing its crooked fangs deeper in an attempt to pierce my skin.

Unfortunately for it-- though fortunately for me --my skin is harder than average. Almost like stone, though you wouldn't be able to tell just by looking at me. In my everyday life, I hate it. But, I can't deny it has its benefits. The Anxi struggles to get purchase, giving me an opportunity.

I slam my other fist into its face, throwing several punches to loosen its grip from my arm, followed by a few more to force it off of me.

...I'll have to patch this dress up later. But more importantly, I need to finish this damn thing off. I push myself up, rushing for my hammer--

KRAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOHHH

--when a gust of wind, loud as a gunshot, forces me back onto my ass. No, wait, that was a gunshot. Meaning...

"Rifa-sensei?" I ask, as if I don't already know it's her.

Dressed much like me, except taller, with green robes instead of yellow, mask adorned with swirls in the visors, cut-outs for draconic horns and tail, and long hair-like tendrils that sway in the non-existent breeze-- that's Rifa-sensei, alright.

"Where have you been...? I've been trying to call you for the past half hour." She speaks in a low, concerned tone. I lower my head, embarrassed and guilty.

"I- well..." I giggle nervously, glancing at the (again) dead Anxi. "I forgot to charge my phone. Honest."

She crosses her arms. "We're not supposed to be working on our own. You know that."

"I..." Not knowing how to respond, I sigh. "Sorry."

She relaxes her posture-- I think to show she's not upset at me. "It's fine-- come on," she gestures to her beat-up car, "Seco-sensei and Wantus-sensei are waiting on us-- they found a big one."

I gulp. Out of the frying pan, into the fire? She offers her hand to help me up, and I take it.

"Let's go-- before any cops show up."

We make our way to her car, and...

...

...Wait, shouldn't I be-

I should be introducing myself here, shouldn't I? Lots of stories have introductions going on at the beginning, right?

Well, for starters, my name's... not important.

...........

Pfffft. No, that's not right-- I'm sorry.

I'm Kinoshita. Kinoshita Chisaki. But, when I'm in the field, I go under the alias of Martel-sensei.

I don't really know if there's any interesting facts I can give about myself; I'm not really anything special.

Aside from being a Witch, I suppose. But, since I'm used to it, it doesn't really seem like a big deal to me. ...I don't really know if it'll ever come up naturally, but magic is actually pretty common where I'm from. Any regular person can learn spells if they put in the work-- like any other skill or hobby. But, people like me, Rifa, Seco and Wantus? We're natural-born adepts-- per specific elemental theming, which we, of course, have no say in the matter of.

I'm sure you can guess that the name wasn't always one with positive connotations. But, we've reclaimed it in recent years. Most of us keep our Witchhood to ourselves, though, not wanting to be persecuted for simply existing.

But, some of us Witches are more proactive, wanting to make the world a better place, despite those who oppose us.

What do we call ourselves, you might ask?

Come on, it's not that hard.

We call ourselves magical girls.