My Normal Life Now Has A Goodbye

Tama didn’t go far. She’d wandered around the general area enough to know the Ohzora family had quite a few empty rooms laying around. As of now they kept a lot of windows covered in case Tama or Sarine needed to go somewhere, so Tama took advantage of the freedom to hunker down in the nearest unoccupied room, sitting down in total darkness.

In a sense, nothing limited her anymore.

When you couldn’t see what laid ahead, life teemed with possibilities, the faintest hopes shimmering between Tama’s fingertips—Chiho’s baton glowed, still.

No one understood it; Chiho’s parents seemed mystified by the fact it still existed at all. The weapon had been an extension of Chiho’s magic. It never should’ve persisted past death, and yet here it laid, glimmering whenever Tama held it. It even worked, though not in any reliable manner, and Tama couldn’t perform any of the spells the former magical girl managed.

The society had to handle Nachts in a less practical way—locking them away, leaving people in comas they couldn’t wake from. All because their savior couldn’t choose to sacrifice her friend for the greater good.

All because Tama couldn’t just die.

Her grip tightened—the baton dimmed.

Call her silly, delusional, driven mad by grief, but Tama wanted to believe in a little pet theory she nursed. She cradled the weapon close, just as she did Chiho’s body.

“…You just can’t give up, can you?” Tama said. “You can’t let go. And—honestly, I wish you wouldn’t. If you’re all that’s left, then I’ll keep you around. Nothing has to change.

“Nothing…”

What a joke.

Maybe Tama was stupid for yearning. If, by some chance, Chiho’s spirit became something more, bound to her weapon and persisting in the mortal realm all to give everyone a fighting chance—wouldn’t that be nice?

Tama didn’t believe she had any potential. If she tried to learn magic on her own, she’d fail, dragging all of Sarine’s natural talent down with her. But if Chiho, on her death bed, clung to her duty with such fervor she ended up much like the whispers of legacy her family swore to protect…

Then Tama would keep that duty alive. She’d gladly become the new protector of this city, banish all Nachts from existence if it meant Chiho didn’t die for nothing.

It seemed so simple. But still—what a disgusting fate. “Give me your power,” Tama whispered. “Please. I need it. So many people are suffering, and they need to wake up. You were the only one who could help them. But now you’re dead, so if you’ve got something to give me, then, please.

“I’m sorry for killing you. She might’ve been some fucked-up nightmare Pleasa pulled outta my head, but she still came from me. She should’ve bashed my head in before you got hurt. I—I should’ve—”

The light faded further. Tama’s vision blurred with tears, erasing even the vague markings on the baton visible in near-darkness.

“It should’ve been me, right!? You won’t do shit—‘cause you hate me now, right? If you wanna be vengeful, then get it over with! Go on, just kill me! Clearly you could do it, so why don’t you!?

“Maybe…keeping me alive is more painful to you.”

Tama knew. All this time, and to the end.

She collapsed against the near-dead weapon, into another puddle of self-pitying sobs. What did she want to happen? A moment where she mustered courage, accepted her new role, complete with a costume, theme music, whatever? She wasn’t a hero. She was barely a Chosen. Sarine seemed to be the one with any real destiny between the two. If anything, she deserved this power.

What did Tama deserve? Guilt, maybe.

She hadn’t been a very good person, especially from the start. Maybe this was her long, overdue punishment. For not doing enough for Chiho. For spurning Sarine.

For not seeing through Lavi’s farce. For not stopping the Nachts. For—for—

Something simmered in Tama. A spark, burning her inside and out. The baton grew hot in her hands.

“But it wasn’t me. It was you. And now—she’s destroying everything.

“So many people are suffering…all because of her selfish, shitty research. And that’s my fault, too. And I hate that I can’t do shit, that I could have a single bad dream and kill someone I loved. I can’t be weak anymore. I need magic—anything, whoever wants to give it to me, I’ll take it!

“I’ll take it…”

Tama bit her lip. A trickle of blood fell, smearing the white surface of the baton.

“So…” A gasp, “just let me kill her!”

The fire driving Chiho forward burned with the kindle of justice. Tama’s worked differently, lit by a different emotion—rage. Revenge.

The pure essence of anger, pumping through her heart, into her blood. As another droplet splattered against the weapon, it burned so bright it almost seared Tama’s hands. She yelped and dropped it.

For a second, she thought of it as divine justice. Chiho becoming one with the Gods, and taking away this chance Tama had at proving herself—hating her anger, despising her selfish desires. But the weapon cooled, glittering brighter than before, yet not so hot as to deny Tama’s touch.

A gentle warmth. Like Chiho’s touch, though its outward exterior reflected Tama’s tastes much better. A shimmering white sword, a yellow star painted on the center. Sleek, thin, it prioritized a deadly front over flashiness, and as time passed, it changed from white to black, the star on the center changing to a pure white. When Tama raised the blade for battle, though, it returned to the former appearance.

And just as Tama lowered it, it disappeared. But she had a feeling it’d return when needed. A tug on Tama’s heart, a plea—even when I can’t be there anymore, I know you’ll keep your promise.

You’re the only friend I’ve ever had. So, please…don’t forget about me. Help others. Make plenty of new friends in my place.

Just remember.

I’ll always be by your side.

In some form or another.

Tama wiped her face for the last time, stepping out into the light.