The Fortune Teller

The Magician Arc

Magical Girl Starplus rides her magical motorbike through the streets of Tokyo, dodging traffic at impossible speeds. After riding for three hours, her bike shifting around, she hits a groove of motion where she doesn’t have to think about it. Her magical reflexes are more than quick enough for such a fast mode of transportation, and she'd begun considering her plans for her arrival in the big city. Just three hours ago, she was in Hokkaido, and now she's already rapidly approaching the destination district within Tokyo.

As a truck zooms towards her, she skids her bike to the side and extends a hand to run along it, fingers trailing on the side and whipping the raindrops back into the air. The splatter of the water looks like rain going sideways, and splashes her, causing a laugh that gets carried by the wind.

Starplus brings her bike to a slow stop in an alleyway, leaning back. Her outfit is unorthodox for a Magical Girl, there's elements of the classic skirt and ribbons, sure, but most of it looks more like a racing biker’s suit, albeit one for a girl who is really confident in the ability of her thighs and tummy to survive road rash. Wearing a retro futuristic helmet with a pair of cat ears and a solid green visor that  looks like something out of a 1960s manga, she leans back to sit straight on the saddle.

✰ Magical Girl Starplus ✙

“Magical Girl Starplus, on site. Beat ya.” The girl flicks open the visor of her kitty-ear helmet and grins, tapping it's side with her hand.
“Always wanted to say that! Feel like a real Inspector.” She punches the air victoriously.
“Just remember that we’re on assignment and on loan. We go back to being Operators once this is done.” A voice sighs from the other side.
“Someone’s jealous I’m quicker. Where are ya now?”
“...Chitose.” Comes the reply. I let out a whistle.
“Still Hokkaido, huh? When are you getting here? Next year?” I tease mercilessly.
“Tomorrow.” The response is short and curt. I'd considered giving her a ride before I left but... nah. It’s way more fun to ride on your own. And besides, passengers just scream and wail once we pass a hundred miles an hour on a motorway.

“Well, I’m gonna start searchin’. Starplus out!” I close off the compact hidden inside my helmet and get off my bike. As it does, it disintegrates back into me. As an element of my Resonance, the bike goes with me. Theoretically, I could lend it to someone else, but I’d have to keep concentration on it to keep it going.

Looking around to check for any witnesses, and guiltily aware that I should’ve checked before dismissing my bike, I stretch out my arms and leap, flinging myself between the pair of walls on either side of the alley until I reach the rooftop, landing with ease.

“So… We gonna learn what’s going on, finally?” I tap the side of my helmet to start up the communication again.
“Hard to say, tari.” A squeaky mascot fairy voice comes through next.
“Do I get the evening off? Seein’ as I’m the only one on site, and you’re all the way on the other side of Japan?” I ask. There’s a pause for a long moment, like they’re debating over who responds.
“Just… don’t attract attention to yourself.” Constellation’s voice this time, she’s more out of breath than the other two.
“Have a great time, tari!” The mascot Tariri pipes up. I punch the air excitedly, and look over at the streets. Shinkawa is a short way away, but between me and it…
“C’mon Shinjuku!” I grin and start racing towards the center of Tokyo’s fashion scene.

*            *            *

Bars and nightclubs aren’t ‘Magical Girl Activities’, so I’d already dismissed form by the time I blended into the crowds. But anyone interested in culture would be stupid not to go there. At least, the type of culture that’s vibrant and alive, not trapped and preserved in an ugly building.

Plus, the glitz and glam is to die for. In the bathroom, I check in a mirror and smirk at my reflection. Sure, when in form, all Magical Girls have a timeless beauty, but I pride myself on my makeup aesthetics. Hair pinned in a single side ponytail, vibrantly colored skirt, fishnets, overly-baggy socks that were all the style a few decades ago for that retro-chic style, a tank top and a clashing jacket. Sorta thing I’d get laughed at for wearing back home. I put the lipstick in place, and give an exaggerated wink before turning on my heel to walk out.

I don’t have anywhere in mind particularly, but taking in the vibes of the street as I walk, I find myself guided by interesting crowds.

“Hey, hey hey! You’re a real princess!” A handsome guy approaches me, wearing a stylish suit with the collar undone just far enough to show the firmness of his clavicle. I don’t need magical girl sight to see it’s held in place by a stiff wire to give that perfect deshabille look. That’s scruffy with style.
“And you’re gonna give me a flyer for a host club.” I flash a smile, and he gives me a cocky cool-guy laugh.
“Ah-ha-ha! You got me! But it’s a real great place, ya know? Tons of drinks, and your choice of drinking partner!” He’s steering the conversation, but I notice that he’s also steering me physically. Or trying to. Getting just close enough to hint at touch, he tries to move me towards another street, where there’s a club waiting.
“Plus, you come in with a flyer, you say my name, and you get half off your first drink.”

Now, I don’t have anything ‘gainst spending the evening with a bunch of eye candy who’re pouring drinks down my throat, but I prefer the drinks to be on them. And I hate being led. I step forward and crush his foot under my heel, and try to play it off as an accident.
“Oh, sorry! Guess you’d better go put some ice on that.”
“That was deliberate! Fuckin’ bitch!” He swears. Guess my acting needs work. I shrug and give him a wink.
“Bit off more than you could chew, pretty boy?” I laugh and walk away. I’d never have had this level of confidence in my old life, but a solid few years of Magical Girl experience tends to give you a sense of self-possession that comes across entirely intoxicating. I feel like it’s a subtle blow for all the women he’s no doubt gently manipulated into spending too much money on booze. I head on with a shrug as he swears up a storm, causing a few girls walking nearby to jump back and away. As he tries to apologize and smarm his way back into their good graces, I roll my eyes. Yup, this is the Shinjuku night scene alright. I keep on moving, looking for a good place to drink.

“You got the time?” A voice calls out, which makes me pause. A pause that continues onwards as I look at the face it comes from. A homeless man in ill-fitting clothes, sitting in an alleyway but facing the street. You don’t see a lot of homeless people like this in Tokyo, and definitely not in a nightlife heavy district like Shinjuku. Most homeless people in the city loiter around convenience stores and try to be unnoticeable, street begging is pretty unheard of. I pause.

“Heya. Good night?”
“Could say that. Could say that.” He replies. Japan’s already pretty limited with giving money to the homeless on the streets, add to that how everyone in Shinjuku at night is looking for thrills and I doubt he’s making enough to provide a good meal. Maybe he’s preying on the international tourist market.

“It’s nine thirty.” I nod at him.
“Wait, wait, miss.” He asks, polite but firm.
“Read your future?” He startles me with the offer.
“Uhhh…” I blink.
“Suuure? How much?” I say, after a moment. This is a new tactic, but I’m game for it, and hell, could be entertaining for a few minutes.
“Five hundred yen.” I wince, that’s steep. I make a show of looking in my purse.
“Oh, I don’t have-” I stare, there’s a 500 yen coin, and he’s looking at me expectantly. I hand it over.
“Alright, what do you have for me?”
“You…” He closes his eyes for a moment, then with a sudden speed I didn’t expect, grabs my hand, forcing open my fingers, and starts tracing his fingers on the lines. I whip my head around and instinctively try to pull back.
“You will meet someone who will change your life. The direction will be miserable, and you will be cursed. Your first love will never know, and you will lose something dear.” He says, spittle dripping from his lips. I wrench my hand free and back away, staring daggers at him. But he doesn’t appear to respond, instead looking down to stare at the five hundred yen in his palm.

The Hermit

As the old man slumps forward, the five hundred yen coin in his hand fades into nothing, disappearing. As if pulling herself out of a sweater, a young woman in a sack cloth outfit shucks the body of the homeless man, who shivers and goes still, face down in the street.

“Ugh. I’m going to have the taste of him in my mouth for days.” She mutters. After a moment of pause, she raises her foot and kicks the man in the head. He doesn’t respond.

“I hear all the young people spend nights in manga cafes these days.” The voice of another, a sinister-sounding woman, replies. The Hermit groans as she rolls her eyes.
“What’s up with that? I can’t work with that! I’m a Hermit, not a friggin’ manga-cafe-mit.” She kicks the body again, smirking viciously, before walking over to the other figure. In an outfit that doesn’t stand out in Shinjuku, the Magician steps forward.

“Get what you need?” The Hermit asks.
“Oh yes. You did quite well.” The Magician smiles, but there’s only cruelty behind her eyes. The pair walk further into the alleyway as behind them, there’s a scream, and the sound of footsteps rushing towards the slumped-over-man.

“Must you leave them dead? It attracts attention” The Magician asks, the Hermit shrugs in response.
“Sucking the life out afterwards is the best part. Especially the part behind the eyeballs, it’s like licking a lollipop covered in grease.” She licks her lips to emphasize the point, and the Magician wrinkles her nose in disgust.

The Magician held up a strand of dyed hair in the light. It was silky smooth, and perfectly suited for what was to come next.