This Magical Girl is Mine

“It’s surreal to read a period piece for a time when you were alive but not conscious,” Sophia says as we wait for our food.

“And in another country with a different cultural context,” I add. “Even having watched or read a bunch of stuff depicting that context, it’s still a weird mix of familiarity and strangeness.”

“The uncanny valley. Everything is just a little to the left of your experiences, so it’s more affecting than if it were completely different.”

“I like that about it.”

We’re talking about the manga Destroy All Humans. They Can’t Be Regenerated. It’s a story about two Japanese high schoolers who fall into feelings for each other as an unintended consequence of their academic and card game rivalry. It’s quite cute, and the romance is written well, even if it’s not my beloved yuri.

“It’s something of a wish fulfillment series, isn’t it?” Sophia asks. “You could say that about most romance, I suppose, but it seems pronounced here.”

I nod. “Yeah, a fair bit. It’s delivering the fantasy of ‘what if that hot girl you have complicated feelings for was into the same card game as you.’ That probably hits home for a lot of the audience.” Myself included. The woes of falling for a girl that’s smarter than you felt very, very familiar, even if it’s never been rivalry for me.

“I liked that it has more depth than your typical nerd fantasy,” Sophia muses. “It’s a genuine rivalry. She’s not his manic pixie dream girl, she’s not chasing his coattails, and she’s not some perfect goddess that deigned to take interest in some random loser. She’s just… human. They’re both very approachable.”

The irony of that isn’t lost on me. The girl in the manga, Sawatari, puts herself through a lot of pain trying to present an image of perfection. She needs everyone to like her, so she needs to be beautiful and smart and completely conventional in her interests, which is why she hides her nerd hobby from everyone at school. The boy, Kanou, resents that mask of perfection until he learns more about the human beneath.

They just like us, for real for real. I was thinking about Sophia constantly while reading this manga. I’m sure she saw the connection, too, because she’s brilliant. But this date isn’t a real date; it’s several layers of bullshit, because we have to pretend we’re still dancing around each other in eternally unrequited love.

The Jovians are probably watching. Pandora isn’t near, according to my flame sense, but Rhea could be in the area, or some other spirit I haven’t heard the name of. Venus knows she can’t take full ownership of my heart, but she might not know why.

It’s such a strange feeling. I’m happy to be around Sophia—ecstatic, even, now that I know she reciprocates—but there’s wholly new anxiety swirling through my thoughts. Before, I thought the worst that could happen was rejection. Turns out gods and monsters are watching our relationship like a hawk.

This is only for a short time. Once we kill Venus, there’ll be no more hiding for anyone.

“Oh, our food’s here!”

Sophia chose this restaurant, Riley Tanner’s, for its variety. It’s primarily a burger place, but it has a little bit of everything, which is perfect for pairs or groups with very different taste in food. I’ll eat most anything, and Sophia’s almost the same, but she prefers to eat vegetarian when there are good options.

Sophia’s burger is a black bean affair, lavished richly with blue cheese, pickled jalapenos, and cabbage slaw. My burger is an atrocity of bacon and cheddar with just a hint of tomato and a splash of proprietary sauce that’s definitely not just ketchup and mayo with spices.

It’s okay. It’d taste better if I could enjoy this moment properly.

Actually, no, I don’t think that’s how food works, but the sentiment holds. The problem is that I’m so damn happy now that I have Sophia’s love. Love. Even thinking the word has me suppressing shivers and trying not to squeal. Sophia Lane loves me back. How could anything ever be bad again?

That’s not how the Rachel I’m pretending to be should feel. I’m supposed to be an anxious wreck, desperate for Sophia’s attention and approval. I’m good at hiding it, I think, but that almost makes it worse; the signals our spies must be looking for would be so subtle that I don’t have a lot of conscious control over them.

If I try to act too anxious, will they see me overcorrecting and deduce the lie? If I relax and enjoy the moment, will I let slip a moment of sentiment too sincere? The twitch of my hand, the settle of my shoulders, the quirk of my mouth, the warmth in my stupid fucking eyes.

I can’t imagine Sophia is having any issue. She’s had a decade more practice than I have, navigating the loops and finding the line where the Jovians catch her on her feelings. That concept is still hard to wrap my brain around. I mean, I know about time loops in fiction, but it’s such a vast, alien experience.

Who really are you, Sophia Lane, to have survived that kind of hell? You’re even more impressive than I thought you were, and I thought the world of you. I love you.

My lips itch to say the words aloud. I can say it, now, but only in secret. In public, I’m even more trapped than before.

“So, pivoting to Shark Kick,” I say after a mouthful of burger, “how did you like it? You only got through Part 1, right? Sorry, ‘only’ sounds crazy when it’s like, ninety chapters.”

Sophia swallows her food and laughs lightly. “No, that’s fair. I liked it enough that I want to read Part 2 when I can find the time. Dennis was a really interesting protagonist, but you’ve told me some fascinating things about that Ashley girl.”

“Yeah, Part 2 is really fun. So, what was your favorite arc in Part 1?”

Sophia considers that for a moment, taking another bite of burger and chewing it thoroughly. “I think… Gun. I don’t think it was the arc I liked the most or enjoyed the most, but it was the moment that most compelled me. The tragedy of it all. The awful, sickening, unavoidable tragedy, in the classical sense. This was always the way it was going to turn out, because that’s the kind of man he was. And yet, you still have to fight it.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Of course you’d think that, you doomed heroine. All that time fighting to save me, thinking it was impossible and trying again anyway. I love you. But I can’t say that. I can’t say anything! It has to be code, subtext, implicit communication. So I say, “I’ve never been a big fan of tragedy. I don’t like accepting bad things as inevitable. Personally, my favorite arc was the last one, Control.”

Sophia raises an eyebrow. “Really? I thought for sure you’d like Bomb the most.”

“What, because a pretty girl gets naked? I’m not that easy,” I tease, knowing I am in fact that easy and I did fall hard for the love interest in that arc. “The last arc was fun, it was crazy, it was hype. I had the ‘Bang’ panel as my wallpaper for a while. Well, a funny edit, but still.”

Sophia giggles. “Of course you would. I… found it interesting, certainly.” She fell silent for a moment, contemplative, before saying, “It was uncomfortable. There was always this thread of discomfort throughout the whole story—the villain wasn’t really hiding her identity—but the final arc brought it into focus. The kind of person who’s willing to sacrifice assets in droves to secure her goals. The kind of person who makes sure she always has the advantage, always knows what to say, is always the one… in control. After seeing that side of her, I’m shocked the protagonist could still hold any feelings for her.”

It’s lightly said, and Sophia keeps her focus on her meal, but I receive the message loud and clear: she’s talking about herself. She sees herself in the villain of the manga—in a control complex that devours lives. And she wonders how something like that could still be loved.

“I thought it was hot,” I say with a rakish grin. I sip my drink while she rolls her eyes, and then I say, “No, seriously. It’s twisted, yeah, but even in the worst of her, there’s an appeal. Competency and confidence are attractive, and the kind of person who can be in control like that has to have those in spades. You wanna know what I really thought when she was revealing how deeply she’d been in control of the narrative the entire story?”

Sophia gestures for me to go on, amusement on her face.

“I thought ‘bark bark.’”

Sophia laughs, that lovely song I’m so enamored with. She nearly chokes on what she was swallowing, which is less lovely, but she clears her throat quickly and it takes another moment for her laughter to peter out. “You gremlin. You creature. I—I can’t believe you sometimes. No, I can absolutely believe you, and that makes it worse.”

I wonder, in that rare stutter, if she almost said she loved me. I choose to imagine that’s what was going on. I grin back at her and say, “Forever at your service for all your comedic needs, the jester Rachel Emily.”

We chatter on over the last scraps of our meal. As we’re finishing up, Sophia gets a call. When she looks at the caller, she grimaces. “I’ll be a moment,” she says, and steps out.

This was rehearsed. Like normal, I give her grace and just a hint of tired pain. “Of course,” I say, understanding and supportive and beaten down. It’s a familiar song and dance.

While she’s gone, I pull out my phone and check on the nerds. Mordacity’s disappearance is still fresh, and none of them know what’s going on with her, so I’m curious if they’ll be discussing her still.

Samantha Altwoman: No, molecules are what you hang on hooks, which are pinned beads. Okay maybe I need to explain it again.

a single femur: You really don’t

Mike Trout: Let the beautiful woman speak

Samantha Altwoman: So the thing about Gas Town is that you have your town but also your rigs and the mayor lives in the town and slings work to the polecats and the crew who work on the rigs and are watched by the witnesses and kept working by the deacon. So it’s mostly agents talking to each other.

a single femur: How much of this system is dedicated to just keeping itself running

Samantha Altwoman: Oh, you know, most of it. The agents are really bad about doing work unless you remind them a lot, lol.

a single femur: Just like me

Mike Trout: they should get on that grindset. they should lock in, like me

a single femur: This whole system seems needlessly complex

Samantha Altwoman: Yeah I guess but I mean what else are you going to do with three Claude Code accounts lmao

Mike Trout: Beautiful woman that I love, why do you need three Claude Code accounts

Samantha Altwoman: To run Gas Town

Alexandria: hi i just backread most of that conversation and what the fuck are you talking about? dont explain, i dont want to know.

a single femur: We’re learning about the future. It sucks

a single femur: Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now

Alexandria: not a date

Alexandria: and yes

Alexandria: but she’s taking a call and im boooooored my perfect and precious sweet wonderful girl of my dreams that im not dating and will probably never date not that im depsondent about that or anything but she’s gooooone for like 5min or smth idk

a single femur: You are the most pathetic incel I’ve ever met, and I own a mirror

Mike Trout: femur you can’t just call someone a stinky femcel that’s fucked up

Alexandria: i’ll boil you both. dont think i wont

Alexandria: i’ve had sex! i think you’ve also had sex!! it would be stolen valor for either of us to claim incel!!!!

Alexandria: and i got the sequence of exclamations right this time fuck you mord

Alexandria: unless that would be in poor taste, you ghosting ass

a single femur: I must admit, it feels weird to be making all these jokes without Mordacity chiming in. I don’t like seeing her absence

Mike Trout: yeahhhhh

a single femur: Does anyone know where she went? It’s not like her to disappear and I’m kinda worried

Alexandria: no idea, but ur not alone in that

Alexandria: she didnt answer when i texted her old school, either. hoping she’s just going through something weird and isolating.

a single femur: That’s not great but I guess it’s better than the alternative

Alexandria: i’ll try to find the time to check her place, but she may have moved since i last knew her address. it’s not a long flight by magical bullshit

Alexandria: oh, cute girl coming back, cya

Sophia returns to the table crestfallen. Her emotional control is as tight as ever; her eyes convey a great deal of pain and regret, her mouth twisted in reluctant, almost mortified sorrow. “Hey,” she says softly, like the hush before death.

“Something came up?” I ask, tired as the grave. I let my features fall before quickly fixing a sympathetic look on my face; a slip, I promise, because of course I can’t let Sophia know how disappointed I am.

“Next week,” she says. “I wish I could tell them no, but I can’t. I’m so sorry, Rachel. I promised these would be our nights and I’ve already—”

“It’s fine,” I say quietly. “I understand, I promise. I’ll look forward to the week after next.”

Relief. Guilt. Determination. “Thank you. I’ll pay for dinner.”

I hope the Jovians are enjoying the show. Herbalist assisting Striga fake a work call like she’s done so often. Myself and Sophia acting our parts. One more fake date, but this time we’re both in on the game, and the enemy is out.

So I’ll act the mournful, lovestruck puppy. Sophia will act the reluctant, hardened hero. And when Valentine’s comes, we’ll show them all what we’re really made of.