Chapter Text
“If we don’t give up, all our dreams will come true.”
Chika woke with those words reverberating in her head. This was strange, because she had gone to bed thinking about playing table tennis with a tangerine.
Was it a sign?
Did such a hardy, yet bouncy tangerine exist?
A shiver ran from toe to head. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, on the verge of something great, something warm, something cold, something to love.
Oh, never mind. The window was open and the sheets had somehow come off her feet.
No – hold on – the shiver wasn’t because of the breeze – she was about to have an epitome... a euphemism... an epiphany! Today was special. It was-
The door swung open.
“Get up. You’re going to be late for school.”
It was the first day of school.
Her older sister, Mito, stood tall and perfect like a goddess looking down on lost, blind serfs. Chika didn’t want to be blind and lost. With the door and window now both open, another breeze, persistent, went through the room, and it blew the blankets off Chika.
She wiggled her toes.
“I’ll cut them off,” Mito said, and Chika momentarily experienced a flashback to a lack of parents and one scissor-wielding sister. No – wait – two scissor-wielding sisters. She stopped the wiggling of toes.
“I’m up,” Chika said, scrambling, rolling off her bed, getting caught in the blankets, oofing on the ground, struggling, and then, a good ten seconds later, making true on her word. Except Mito was already gone.
Maybe that was for the best.
Standing in the center of her room with her sheets wrapped around her like she was a mummy or an insane asylum patient, she struggled to remember why she had felt so excited. Something about tangerines? Something about Endless Oratorio? Something about school? Toes? Scissors? Tangerines? Or just the desire not to be blind and lost?
In a trance, she changed into her uniform, fretted emptily about it in front of the mirror, and then stumbled down the stairs.
Her family was gathered around the TV, eating breakfast. Chika decides to live in the present and slips a couple slices of bread into the toaster and then sits down.
On-screen, Endless Oratorio. They were showing a recap of last week’s competitive matches. Since it was the beginning of the school year, there weren’t many events yet.
An avatar was standing alone on screen. She looked to be about Chika’s age, maybe a little younger, and she had this black dress that was sorta doll-like and sorta really intense. It was pretty, fashionable, and had just the right amount of unsettling-ness to fit her personality. Her dark blue hair contrasted the plain concrete of the battlefield in what Chika immediately recognized as the one versus one match.
The play-by-play caster was shouting rapid-fire as particles continued to rise from a magic circle around the girl.
“Yohane has a clear route to victory, here, yet Sarah has not realized it. The early clashes helped reduce the cooldown on Bloody Rain, and now a completion is imminent. There it is – full commitment on Sarah’s part – she knows now – yet – oh, no, she’s only pulled out three clones. That’s not going to be enough!”
Yohane was surrounded by four ninjas as she lifted her parasol. The motions were precise. Her lips were moving – an incantation, but the words couldn’t be heard over the caster’s comments. Surrounded by clones of Sarah – a ninja whose armor is too purple and too revealing – Yohane let go of the parasol and completed her incantation.
The parasol didn’t fall, but rain did. It was blood red, or just blood, and the clones didn’t take too nicely to it. They fell apart like fine lego, revealing the sole true Sarah, who was struggling under a small glyph conjured to act as her own parasol. Yohane, immune to the precipitation, picked up her parasol and like it was a rapier lunged forward and pierced Sarah with it. What followed was a single kick, which knocked Sarah back into the rain, where she gasped, fell to the ground, and writhed.
The victory jingle began to play.
“And a commanding finish by the Fallen Angel Yohane! This locks her into third place for the monthly 1v1 Arena ladder. A cool twenty thousand yen richer, and a set of unique consumables to take back to Choir. Yet is she satisfied? When asked for an interview after the battle, she had this to say:”
The screen cut to a dirt road, with a backdrop that looked a lot like the coliseum of Rome. Chika recognized the place immediately; it was two kilometers outside of the capital city. The scenery was digital, but the graphics were near indistinguishable from real life. Maybe they were just a tad brighter and better. Yohane was there, with her trademark black parasol. Up close, the skulls, candles, and spiders on the parasol were visible.
“This is my third month and, yet, here I am. So soon. What is there really to say? I’m disappointed.” She looked into the camera with a confidence or arrogance. “Is this all it takes? Is this the best you have? If you don’t show me something interesting by the time I get to the top, I’d rather watch the world burn than save it. And I warn you: I’ll be there soon, so give me something nice to see other than the horizon. I do not bend to time. I do not serve for the expectations of others. And I certainly will not defend the worthless.”
Yohane lowered her parasol to block the camera’s view, then disappeared – some kind of teleportation – leaving behind a clumsily collapsing tower of spiders in her stead. The video shook as the cameraman stumbled away from the spiders.
Chika must have arrived late into the competitive recaps, because it ended with Yohane’s exit. She didn’t mind, though, because the next part was her favorite. The top five plays of the week... or not. The usual graphical sequence broke. The music changed to the Oratorio Live theme.
The toaster went beep, beep, but it might as well have went weep, weep, because Chika was not paying it any attention.
The victors of last year’s Oratorio Live appeared on screen.
The camera panned past nine girls, each with distinct, dazzling smiles like there was no evil in the world. And then the camera stopped at one girl: Honoka. Chika could recognize her even without the caption. Wow, she thought. Just, wow. Someone was saying something on the TV, but she couldn’t hear, because, as guilt and gratitude flew by like winged fish, something more concrete landed in front of her. Thanking her father, she sipped the hot chocolate and then refocused to the part beyond the wow. A path – a direction – somewhere to go – a goal to reach towards – someone – an aspiration.
It was almost impossible, but there it was, right in front of her. And she couldn’t deny it.
Everyone was staring at her.
She frowned and looked between her family members.
School, Mito mouthed.
“Wah!” She was totally gonna be late. “I’m off!” she shouted, before grabbing her unbuttered toast, putting it in her mouth, and running out the door.
“Take care,” her mother called after her.
Chika didn’t hear this.
Her thoughts were elsewhere. In the land of Choir.