Christmas Eve 2027 ((InMediasResReturned))

It was Christmas Eve in 2027. Harajuku’s vibrant streets were still full of crowds and merchandising displays. In so many ways, nothing had changed. Festive lights hung across streets and wrapped around trees. Clothing was still colorful and prominent. Major brand logos shone out about other mass-produced gimmick shops and cafes where slightly sedated animals could be pet for a small fee.

Yet it was also wholly changed. Beyond the now-familiar shards jutting through buildings and alleys, there were now streams of portals that allowed people to move between locations in seconds. The transit, freight, and taxi companies had lobbied to stop the development of such offerings, but the onslaught could not be stopped. Streets and subway stations were significantly less trafficked, save for the occasional purist or anti-Arcan traveler.

Lightwave projection billboards beamed curated images that were generated on the fly by syncing to Manu-Crystal implants of random passersby. Arcan-tech robotic workers lined the shops, handling most general tasks. Lightweave mimics were all the rage for evening gowns and sleepwear. Fascination with the mysterious Arcans led to the mostly ignorant public wanting to have their clothing be inspired by the mystical beings.

So capes of light became common. Masks of synthetic geometrical shapes swiftly turned into the most popular accessory of the year. Flowing, airy layers referenced the supposed billowing tendrils of the beings that so few had ever seen.

And then there was the surveillance state, which had escalated significantly since Her attacks began. Quantum processing networks documented thousands of terabytes of data every second as the powers that be tracked magic deployment, social media posts, spending habits, and signs of unrest. Yen-sized ArcanDrones flew through streets in silent swarms, using tracking incantations to search for wanted figures, with Her being Target Alpha.

Beyond the “invasion” of the Arcans and their “attacks”, the newest, most terrifying threat was The Acolyte. Beyond her actual attacks on military bases, government facilities, and Arcan-tech enterprises, Her wrath was also being exaggerated by deepfake propaganda videos designed to spread fear in the populace.

Every night, new imagery of The Acolyte murdering children and devouring elders played on government-mandated broadcasts. In those images, her eyes glowed red. Fangs jutted from her mouth. Claws extended from her fingertips. Fire emanated from her head, crowning her in flame. She was as much an animal as she was human.

If anyone had actually seen her, they would have seen that she was actually an exhausted, pale, sunken-eyed twenty-year-old with pink hair and a scarred face. That was who was currently wandering the streets of the fashion district. She was also masked. The popularity of the fashion trend meant she didn’t draw attention to herself when she arrived in a tattered trench coat and an amethyst-styled face cover.

Months of wearing only lightweave had left Miu feeling vulnerable. Deep within her mind, she was still the girl who had wanted to work in Harajuku and paint nails. Now, as she walked in silence, Miu couldn’t help but mourn the life that never happened. Still, she found herself wanting to look at clothes. Seeing the world look so different in such a short time stirred a fashion interest she’d thought was gone. Even if this was all she ever got, Miu savored the fact that she had finally made it to Harajuku. Even if she was just here to prep for another act of terror…

But the terror could wait. For now, she wanted new clothes. She wanted to feel a little more human. A little more like the girl she lost. That sentiment drove her down a narrow alley full of well-appointed boutiques. Storefront display crystals scanned her body for marketing cues, but were unable to find any personal details in the ArcanTech lexicon.

One shop finally caught Miu’s attention. She stopped to read its logo: Armor4Life. Looking in the window, Miu saw stylized representations of battle armor redone in modern, lightweight variations. Shoulder guards and arm bracers lined the walls with accessory slots on their curved surfaces. Miu knew those ports were for ArcanTech crystals but she imagined she could fit actual Shards within them. It was all enough to draw her in.

Miu was shocked to enter and see actual human girls working. One had a mohawk braid with crystal implants running along her cheekbones. The other wore ethereal white gowns with a dramatic expletive stitched across her chest and groin in neon lettering. They smiled and greeted her as she debated removing her mask.

“I like your coat,” said the profanity-chested worker.

“Thanks…” Miu muttered as she looked at the foreign shelves.

Billowing tactical skirts and leggings mixed with flexible undershirts. Tunics were stitched with glowing threads. It was all surreal and, as much as Miu hated to admit, cool. High-top shoes had steel toes and high-tension laces. Bracelets were slotted and brutalist. Everything here was perfect. If she needed clothes, armor was a wonderful choice.

“Can I try these on?” Miu asked as she motioned to a few items.

“Of course! Will you need a makeup cover?” The mohawk asked.

“No…” Miu chuckled.

“Not much makeup these days.”

“Do you want some?” The helper asked as she pointed to a wall of vibrant eyeliners and lip glosses.

Once more, the long-repressed girl in Miu’s psyche whispered a plea of approval. Miu paused, then nodded.

“I… it’s been a few years. I don’t really remember what all I need.”

“I’ll style you!” said the expletive girl.

“…If you want… otherwise we can just make some recs.”

There was a pause as Miu debated. She didn’t sense that this was a trap by the surveillance state, and the deepfakes had so thoroughly exaggerated her that she wasn’t even sure if the regular populace knew what she actually looked like.

“Let’s do this. Get dressed and see if you like your choices. Then, we’ll do your makeup to match your outfit. Sound good?”

Miu nodded and removed her tattered shoes to enter the dressing room.

A minute later, she exited the dressing room, unmasked and nervous. Matted, wild pink hair hung heavy over worn out features and a mangled scar. Her left eye stayed shut, just to be safe. To her surprise, neither of the girls seemed bothered.

“Hell yeah, you look amazing.” clapped mohawk.

“Like, absolutely badass. Warrior goddess for real. Your arms. Holy shit, you’re fit,” agreed expletive.

“Girl crush.”

“Girl crush.”

Miu couldn’t help but blush and smirk at their politeness as she stepped into the bright red and black high tops. Looking in the mirror, she saw her new outfit in completion. A soft undershirt sent feathered sleeves out from her asymmetrical tunic. A vibrant purple and red sash tied around her waist. Metal shoulder pads and arm bracers reflected the light as they awaited their crystal inlays. Knee-length leggings were covered by a glowing skirt and outer gown.

It was all perfect. The forgotten girl almost dared to smile in wonder.

The workers approached with make-up offerings and began their work. Miu explained she had a basic comb and that was it. Hair products were applied and tips were given to help with tangles. Foundation, blush, lipstick, and eyeliner for her right eye were all applied, and moments later, Miu saw a reflection that for once had a little life in it.

“You’re beautiful,” said the mohawked girl.

Miu sighed and shook her head.

“No. But, thank you,” Miu said as she raised her mask back to her face.

With that, Miu reached into her coat and retrieved a large clump of banknotes that had been liberated from a konbini ATM, which Miu had conveniently destroyed the night before.

“Here. Keep the rest,” Miu said without care.

“What? No, we can’t do that…” said the attendants.

“Is it still expensive to live?” Miu asked.

“Well… yeah… and they keep cutting the social programs. And inflation never stopped…” sighed the expletive girl.

“Then keep it. And… does… anyone you love work at the Bank of Japan building?...” Miu asked in a steady, empty voice.

The girls exchanged perplexed glances and shook their heads.

“Good…” Miu said as she exited the store and generated a portal.

As soon as the mystical opening appeared, she stepped through and vanished. Two minutes later, the girls were interrupted from their work by the national alerts that The Acolyte had returned to Tokyo and ripped the Bank of Japan headquarters from the earth and collapsed it into nothingness. Live, unaltered footage of the attack showed a pink-haired girl adorned in clothes from their store…

After the damage was complete, Miu looked down from the sky in calm contempt. From her vantage point, she could see the ruins of her other attacks. Entire business districts were still razed. Once-thriving office towers were scarred and burned down to their structural cores. It would continue. But for now, she had to return to her safehaven in Sapporo. There was a clap of thunder, and Miu vanished back to Hokkaido’s snowy embrace. She needed to rest.

But that rest would not come. When Miu reappeared in her sanctuary, she was immediately greeted with Arcan attack beams and the image of hundreds of military craft hovering. The might of the Arcans and human militaries had arrived at her doorstep. Miu’s exhausted rage began to unshackle itself as she landed atop the former Sapporo Tower to look out at her invaders. The two Arcans were projecting their own offensive barriers, which were already causing Miu’s strained securities to buckle.

They would get through. Even though she could barely stand after months of fighting, she had to fight once more. Holding out her hand, Miu growled to herself in preparation.

“Wrath forms in my hand. Broken stone remade for me. Summoned. Scream. Arrive!” Miu commanded.

From the nothingness, a thin, jagged, two-meter-long chunk of sapphire blue crystal arrived in Miu’s clutches and immediately glowed with violent fury. Miu removed her mask as her left eye ignited.

“Veins burn! Rivers dry! No snow left in Sapporo!! You will die tonight!!!” Miu screamed at her guests.

What she did not know was that one of those guests was an automaton labeled G.A.K.I. Unit 0319 was currently waking within its dropship…