The Convention

The Fool Arc

The group of four Magical Girls had been discussing their plans for a while. Coming to one option, refuting it, then coming to another. Finally, with a muffled amount of resentment and anger, they came to a solution that they all found fairly acceptable.

The only thing that needed to be decided was the location of their trap. Where would the Maniacal show up next?

One of them, the quiet one in red, pointed towards a noticeboard.

On it, a single flyer:

The Third Magical Girl Anime Convention arrives in your city!

Cosplay, Celebrations, and Celebrities!

For the four day weekend, buy your favourite thin-books, doujin works, and meet the writers, seiyuu, and production teams behind legendary Magical Girl anime like Blossom Spring!

Tickets on sale now!

♥ Magical Girl Rinrin ♥

The bustling hive of the convention center was nightmarish for a shut-in. Even surrounded by a large group of men and women who were mostly shut-ins themselves. Not that I’d consider myself a shut-in, just… temporarily taking a leave of absence from society.

The press of bodies in the hot summer heat was unbearable, and more than once I found myself jostled, almost knocked over, or had my face pressed against the back of someone whose sweaty shirt was stuck to their skin like the wrapper on a melted candy bar.

“We sure this is the one?” I hiss into the pink heart-shaped phone that looks like a compact mirror. Rook’s voice on the other end replies.
“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts about this. It’s your fault we’re out here.”
“I’m not! Just… it’s kinda hard to tell what’s going on when you’re pressed into the crowd. And it’s boiling out here!”
“Just keep your fan on.”
“The fan just blows hot air in my face! Do you have any idea how hot it is to wear this in the sun?”
“...Do you have any idea how hot armor gets on a skirt?”
“Not the same thing. At least you’re in magical form for-oof!” I stumble forwards, and look up at the imposing man who glares down at me for getting in his way.

“Uh… s-sorry?” I say. With the sun behind his head, I can’t make out his facial features, but he’s definitely built. There’s a lot of him. It must’ve been a long construction project to build all that.
“Uff.” He gives another glare, then moves on to cut in line somewhere ahead. Part of me wants to tell him to get in line properly, but I bite my tongue. I’m only here for the mission. But right now, I could use a break, a water bottle, and something salty.

*            *            *

“The biggest gathering of Magical Girl fans in Tokyo.” Bishop smiles, reading the flyer out loud.
“If I wanted to attack the idea of Magical Girls, that’s where I’d strike. A convention hall full of potential victims. And it fulfils all his requirements, fear, masses of people, and if Rinrin’s right about his hatred for Magical Girls-”
“Which I am.”
“-Then what better way to stick it to their faces than slaughter a bunch of their fans? Taint the idea of Magical Girls for everyone when it hits the news. It’s quite the perfect spot.” Bishop gives a satisfied nod, and smoothly moves over to Anya, giving her some gentle head pats.
“Good Tama.”

“I, for one, need more evidence.” Rook says, looking at the flyer.
“Sure, it fits, but how do we know the Maniacal has seen this exists? If it hates Magical Girls as much as we think, I doubt it keeps up on the latest anime.”
“Hate is an attractive force, same as love. The only thing that haters like more than seeing something fall, is watching it and insulting it on the way down.” Bishop replies.
“And then there’s your report, the attack on the manga store. You said that the cleanest part of the store was the display stand for Magical Girl fan works and manga.”
“Maybe, yeah, it did stand out how clean that area was when everything else was covered in blood. But how’s that relevant?”
“It was clean because the books at the front, the ones that got splattered with blood, were removed.” Bishop smirks, and I can’t help but cheer and applaud our great detective.

“Okay, fine, maybe there’s a chance. But I need more proof before I’m willing to take this bet. How do we know those magazines talk about this convention?”
“They do.” Anya says, quietly. We all turn to face her.
“Every Magical Girl magazine… … advertising it.” She pieces the words together slowly.
“I have… eleven of those flyers… at home.” She finishes. I blink and grin.
“Come to think of it, I think I got a couple, too!” I agree. Rook grits her teeth, but sees no reason to object further.

“Alright! We’ve got a location. And we know where to strike. Now we just need an attack plan.” Bishop grins triumphantly.

We discussed various ideas, including who would be stationed where. My first suggestion, everyone just waits on the rooftop for the arrival and then pose as a team, got shot down by two dissenting voices.
“I don’t really think that’s a good idea, dear.”
“Absolutely not. There’s no tactical advantage to exposing yourself like that.”
“Exposing!? You’re making it sound like I’m some sort of exhibitionist!”
“...Aren’t you?”
Bishop interceded before the squabbling went on any longer.

Finally, the plan was set in place.
“All agreed?” Says Bishop. She’s taken to this leadership thing like… actually, come to think of it, she’s probably got some experience leading.
“Very well!” She nods at everyone.
“The next day is yours. Prepare yourselves.”

“And remember, no plan survives contact with the enemy!” Bishop says, proudly, with a big smile.
“Doesn’t that just mean that all of this was pointless?” Rook groans, and Bishop gives an over-the-top ojou-sama ‘ohohoho’ laugh.

*            *            *

The meeting had ended with all of us being given a Magical Girl Compact. The small, heart-shaped device looked like a makeup mirror, but seemed to allow us to talk in relative peace. You placed your transformation charm inside it, and that would provide it enough energy to work. No one would be able to hear words spoken directly into it, and no one but the person looking in the mirror could hear words coming out. It was like a concealed smartphone, in some ways, capable of communicating through magic waves.

Plus, it meant that you could hold it in the air to transform, which felt totally cool and super Magical Girl like. I’d practiced a few times in my room, even adding a few different variants of chants until Nyamu had yelled at me to go to bed already.

But the initial excitement over getting a new Magical Girl toy soon drifted into despair at just how long it’s been since I was in this crowded a place.

“Any movement yet?” I whisper into the Compact, and receive a response in short time.
“No. Stay vigilant.” Rook replies curtly, her eyes scanning around. I want to tell her the low angle she’s holding the mirror is unflattering even for a magical girl, but I refrain.
“Don’t worry! We’re almost ready!” Comes the response from Bishop.

“Rook, seen anything?” She asks.
“No, I- wait-”

♖ Queen-Side Rook ♖

“Smile, smile!”
“Oh, how pretty!”
“Do you think that’s real metal?”

I wince at each of the words, and turn and pose awkwardly, the way that Kurin had demonstrated the previous day. There’s more cheering and whistling, and the snapping of photos. Around this small courtyard are about seven different girls, each in an over the top magical girl getup. I can’t help but feel a little jealous of the other girls, who’ve worked hard on their makeup and outfits to get all this attention. But there’s a more overriding sense of guilt. My magical form makes me effortlessly beautiful, and the outfit always seems to hang purposefully. I’d never get this much attention if I was just wearing a cosplay outfit. So the mixture of sensations is odd.

“Why do I have to do this? Wouldn’t Rinrin be more suited?” I speak into my compact, once I have a ten minute break to hydrate. The other cosplayers have gathered in one spot and are shooting me dirty looks, probably annoyed that a newcomer is stealing the show.

“Well, you just look so pretty!” Comes Bishop’s cheerful response.
“I’m supposed to be a knight. Knights aren’t pretty, they’re… commanding. Authoritative.”
“...In a skirt that short?” There’s the sound of hissing and a mechanical pop from Bishop’s side of the conversation.
“Why couldn’t Kurin do this?”
“She understands the… Otaku-energy better. Plus, she said she wanted to buy some books while on the floor.” There’s another hiss-pop from Bishop’s side. I grumble in annoyance at the self serving answer.
“Glad you’re all having fun at a stakeout. What is that sound? What are you doing?”
“Blending in. Now come on, get back to the show.” Grumbling, I guzzle the water bottle that was provided for free to all cosplayers, and begin posing for the cameras once more, standing in the center, trying not to let the scowls get to me.

Despite myself, I start getting into it, I begin twirling around and striking poses, more and more of them as time goes on. Kurin had insisted we spend a day practicing posing. I twist, turn, and strike pose after pose. Heroic new ones, classic magical girl poses, even newer entries from Idol posters I walk past on my way to and from school.

“Oh, so beautiful!” A voice calls out in gratuitous English. I turn to stare at a familiar long-white-haired girl, this time with a poorly fitting Hawaiian shirt hanging over her dress. I grit my teeth.
“Bishop. I will end you.” I glare at her. She raises a camera and takes a picture with another hiss-pop sound.

*            *            *

Three long hours of posing, breaks, and occasional glares when Bishop showed up, usually with hands clasped around some sort of confectionery, a new bag of goods, or her camera, and I was starting to wonder which of the two was the more fitting for the otaku role in this stakeout.

“You know.” She says, licking an ice cream and sitting next to me as I take another of my once-an-hour five minute breaks.
“Given the amount of fans you’re developing, we could probably sell some goods. I know I’d pay for one of those cute little chibi keychains. The ones where they’re suspended by the scruff of their neck?” She gives a giggle, and I respond by lightly knocking her on the head.
“We’re here for a mission.” I reply, sternly. Truthfully, the attention has caused a certain level of unashamed pride despite myself, as evidenced by my embarrassing display earlier.

“A display that, I’m sure, you’re going to delete from your camera roll.” I sternly order Bishop, who cups a hand around her ear.
“What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you.”
“Bishop…”
“The crowd is really very loud, you know.”
“Bishop!” She gets up and begins walking away with a half wave over the shoulder. Her odd attire had been justified by her declaration that it was a bunch of oddly-dressed otaku here anyway, and given what I’d seen so far, she may have been right. I still shudder a little at the memory of the overweight guy with the BO and a shirt that looked like stitched together faces of anime women with their tongues out.

As I ready for another round, there’s a call on the Compact. I grab it quickly and answer. On the other side is Rinrin, with a mask covering her mouth and doing a bad job of hiding her identity as she tugs it down to speak.

“Rook, seen anything?”
“No, I- wait-” My ears prick up, and I look around, scanning the situation. There was something just then. Some noise out of the normal.

“I heard something. I’m on the move.” I say, curtly.
“Negative.” Says Bishop, far more business-like than when I last saw her.
“Let Tama investigate. That’s her job. Tell her where.” I grit my teeth, but she’s right. I need to trust the juniors, even though it feels wrong to put them to work like this.
“...Tama. Check the changing room corridor. It’s showtime.”