My Normal Life Now Has Me in Trouble with My Parents

A roar pierced Tama’s ears. The monster charged right at her—just as planned.

Tama ducked, diving under the plane-shaped Nacht and grinning as she saw exactly what she expected. “There’s some kind of fuel tank down here! Sarine, come on, aim!”

Sarine darted through the air in a desperate bid to catch up with Tama before the plane realized the reckless maneuver the two planned. She’d grumble and gripe about it after, of course, but in the moment the thrill of flying under the Nacht, pointing and firing a pillar of flames with only a gesture alongside Tama washed away all that frustration.

It’d been exactly what Sarine wanted.

As long as the two worked in sync, both glowing as they casted their spells, they achieved feats grander than any spell Sarine used on her own. Neither understood this power yet, but they’d come to rely on it to destroy the increasingly strengthening Nachts that emerged over the past couple weeks. But, of course, try as they might, they still needed one key element if they wanted to finish off these nightmarish foes.

One special magical girl—Yearning Yuriko pointed her baton, chanted the words, and vaporized the monster. Pinpricks of lights traveled towards the homes nearby as silence reclaimed the night.

Yuriko landed, and in a flash transformed back into normal old Chiho. And, in a greater show of speed, claimed Tama in a hug. “We’re amazing at this! Aren’t we, Tama!? Isn’t saving these innocent dreams the most wondrous feeling in the world?”

“Urk—Y, yeah, yeah—ngh…” Tama groaned, wriggling out of Chiho’s grip. Sarine rolled her eyes.

“What am I,” she grumbled, arms crossed, “a bowl of rice?”

Chiho pouted, patting Sarine with the tip of her pointer finger. “There, there. You’re just as important as Tama. If it wasn’t for you, the magic wouldn’t work at all—and the two of you together achieve power greater than what I’ve been capable of by myself.”

“It’s like the power of your friendship!” Lavi cheered, shoving her way between the three. “Another beautiful, perfect night illuminated by the light of Yearning Yuriko’s merciful justice! Where to next?”

Tama checked her phone. “Almost 3 A.M.. There’s no way we’re getting anymore tonight.”

“Indeed,” Chiho said. “Shall I take us home?”

“Aw….I guess,” Lavi said, trying and failing to hide her disappointment as she perched on her partner’s shoulder. Sarine did the same with Tama before Chiho scooped Tama up, assumed her transformation, and sped off into the night.

Tama sometimes wondered whether Chiho experiences one of those super flashy magical girl transformations when powering up, where she danced and zapped her outfit on. For a while Tama didn’t believe it, though Sarine did, until she asked—apparently it happened so fast no one else got to see it.

Yeah. Cool.

Just thinking about it gave Tama enough of a headache to collapse into her futon. A warm bath and a change of clothes dealt the finishing blow to her consciousness, though before she dared to slip into it, her phone’s buzz snapped her back to reality.

She lifted it to her bleary eyes—before the contents of it sent her reeling.

“The…fuck?” Tama quickly, instinctively, sent off the quickest lie to come to mind before she slammed her phone down, burying her head in her hands.

Sarine flew to Tama’s side. “Hey, what? What happened?”

“Tama?” Chiho too joined Tama on her other side, and after a moment, Tama sighed and fell back into her futon.

“My neighbors snitched,” she said. “They told my mom I haven’t been home in, like, forever. Now she’s freaking out thinking I ran away. Fuck—fuck…”

Chiho darted across the room and grabbed her phone. “May I speak to them? Perhaps there’s some sort of—um, maybe I—”

“You’re a stranger, she’s just gonna freak out more!” Tama snapped, then winced. “…Sorry. It’s my fault, not yours. I’ll make something up and run back home for a while.”

“Are you sure?” Chiho said, wringing her hands together. “I know they may not know me, but I’m sure if I were to have a calm conversation with them, they’d—”

“It’s not that easy, Ohzora,” Tama said, biting back something, “They live abroad. They don’t wanna hear about it. Trust me, you’re not the first. They’ll just complain to me about it and—stop looking at me like that.”

Chiho frowned and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“…It’s fine.” Tama gripped her phone. “I’ll just head home. Long enough to get my parents off my back, then I’ll, uh, tell my neighbor about you. Maybe then I can sleep over plenty without her getting nosy. But, still, she’s my mom’s friend first, so I gotta play it safe.”

Lavi looked between the two girls, speechless—Sarine scoffed. “That’s stupid,” she said. “What if something happens? We’re living here for a reason!”

“Then we figure something out, but I’m not pissing off my parents more,” Tama said. “I can’t.”

“C’mon, why the fuck do you care what they think!? They don’t even—”

“Sarine, please stop!”

Sarine did as told, turning to Chiho. Chiho placed her hands over her heart. “Relations with parents can be…fraught. At the end of the day we need to value Tama’s personal stability. Can you watch over her? I’m sure…other Chosen have been in far worse situations and come out fine. Besides, no one other than us knows the truth about your magic. No one has seen our battles, either—we’ll be okay.”

Sarine tensed, a small body brimming with frustration. But not a bit slipped out. She swallowed it back, wings drooping. “Okay, fine. Guess it’s just a human thing I don’t get…but okay.”

“Let’s just go to sleep for now,” Tama said, turning on her side. “and I’ll go home after school tomorrow. That good?”

“It should be fine,” Chiho said, returning to her own futon however mechanically. Lavi nodded and went to her own bed as well, leaving Sarine to float. Helplessly, lost.

Of course she didn’t understand these ridiculous human customs. Of course—who would want to understand something as unfair as that? Wouldn’t her parents understand if Tama opened up about the danger she would be in if she returned home?

Didn’t they care?

…They should. If Sarine cared, then they should care ten times as much. But they didn’t—that was how the world worked.

However unfair it was.