Dear Diary...
What in the lady of Majestic Fuck is happening to my world? I can’t...even..... AARGHHHH!!! Okay..let me start from the beginning.
The first thing I remember was a sharp crack—the sound of Kazuko-sensei's ruler slapping against her palm as we stood in Meiwa High's abandoned rooftop garden. Mother, for once wearing actual clothing instead of bondage gear, traced her fingers along the rusted railing while Kazuko-sensei adjusted her glasses with surgical precision. I was explaining, with tears in my eyes, what had happened the previous day - of the terror I had felt, and how the new girl had almost been cut in half.
I kept babbling over and over, afraid to stop, afraid they wouldn’t listen...
But they seemed to be believing me -finally!
"Emiko, dear," Mother said, voice uncharacteristically sober, "tell us exactly what it was that you saw."
“Whoever this delinquent was...” Kazuko-sensei scowled, her face scrunching up in intense rage, “She won’t be doing it for long, I promise you that. Tell us what she looked like, where she went and we’ll punish her!”
Joy and hope filled my heart. With the adults in charge, I could leave it behind and let THEM take care of it all!
I opened my mouth—
—and the air split like overripe fruit. She materialized behind both my mother and teacher in a cascade of black rose petals, her twin katanas already dripping crimson. Mother's head toppled off first, her decapitated body collapsing gracefully as a felled sakura tree. Her open eyes staring blankly into mine. Kazuko-sensei managed half a step before the blade bisected her vertically from scalp to groin, her two halves sliding apart with a wet schism. The masked girl stepped over their remains, her boots leaving bloody footprints as she advanced towards me.
"Saori-nee!" I screamed in panic! Within seconds, I regretted it, I didn’t want my sister to come in, I had to get her to run —but it was too late. My sister burst through the rooftop door in her usual frilly maid outfit, only to be impaled through the sternum mid-curtsy. The sword twisted, shredding her lungs as she gasped my name like a broken music box.
Yuriko came next, hurling herself between us with a battle cry that choked into gurgles when the blade eviscerated her abdomen, spilling glistening coils onto the gravel.
Then Yuki—sweet, trembling Yuki—who wept silently as the sword cleaved her skull like a melon, her glasses shattering against the blade.
The worst came last. Kyosuke's small hands clutched my uniform skirt, his wide eyes reflecting my terror. "Emiko-nee...? What’s happening? Please..protect me!" The sword flashed out from the darkness, and his tiny body crumpled, throat gaping like a second smile. Blood fountained across my cheeks—warm, metallic, wrong—as the masked girl leaned in, her breath smelling of winter cemeteries. "Your turn now my pet—"
I woke screaming loud enough to rattle the framed anime posters on my walls. The door burst open before my lungs emptied—Mother actually wearing pajamas for once, Saori tripping over her own nightgown in panic. They crashed onto my bed like confused meteorites, arms wrapping around me before I could stop hyperventilating.
"Emiko-chan!" Saori's tears soaked through my sweat-drenched pajamas. "Was it the nightmare about the giraffe-sized dildo ag—"
"Shut *up*!" I wheezed, shuddering against them.
Their warmth felt obscenely real compared to the dream's cold slicks of blood. Mother's fingers carded through my tangled hair with surprising gentleness.
"Talk," she ordered, voice stripped of its usual teasing lilt. My throat clenched around the images—Kyosuke's small hands going slack, Yuki's glasses shattering—but only a whimper escaped.
Saori pressed her forehead to mine, her breath minty from late-night snacking.
"Stay home," she urged pleadingly, fingers tightening in my sleeve. "We'll binge-watch trashy dramas and eat tempura until you forget whatever—"
"No." The word scraped raw from my throat. Kyosuke's phantom blood still clung to my palms—if I stayed here, that nightmare blade would find him first.
Mother's gaze sharpened, her manicured nails tapping my cheekbone. "At least tell us what terrified my youngest daughter enough to wake up the entire city! You have NEVER screamed like that!"
Saori clutched my wrist, her usual submissive whimper replaced by steel. "Emiko-chan, if someone threatened—"
"It was.....jus...just a dream," I lied through chattering teeth, peeling their hands off me.
The digital clock bled 7:17 AM in angry red.
"Just... existential dread about trigonometry."
My uniform stuck to sweat-slick skin as I dressed mechanically, ignoring Mother's suspicious glare. Kyosuke's gaping throat-flash haunted my periphery—if that blade found him while I cowered under blankets, I'd never forgive myself.
Tokyo's dawn air slapped me awake as I bolted down our gated driveway. There was no way I could have stomached breakfast that day. The streets yawned with early commuters clutching convenience store coffees like holy relics. Normalcy grated against my frayed nerves—how could salarymen shuffle past when that thing still breathed? My sneakers pounded pavement hard enough to fracture concrete. Then—thwump. My legs tangled mid-stride. Gravity laughed as I faceplanted into yesterday's ramen wrappers.
"Oi, rich girl! Watch where you're puttin' those designer clown shoes!"
I blinked down at the fuzzy nuisance currently tangled in my shoelaces. The creature—if it even was a creature—looked like someone had stuffed a disgruntled barista into a taxidermied tanuki. His star-speckled tail flicked irritably as he disentangled himself from my laces, tiny paws brushing nonexistent dirt off his lavender fur.
"Fucking finally," he grumbled, adjusting his cracked halo with a paw. "You'd think rich girls could afford depth perception."
I clutched my now-throbbing breast, torn between disbelief and murderous rage. "I'm—you—WHAT THE ACTUAL—"
"That’s the problem with you rich kids," the tanuki muttered, dodging my wild kick with unsettling grace, "Ya always think reality needs YOUR permission to exist." He flicked his starry tail, sending a shower of glowing motes into my eyes. "Name's Muffin the Magnificent. Cosmic nuisance, all around Magical badass, at your service. Now quit flailing before you—"
New screams tore through the morning air—higher pitched this time, borderline hysterical. Human. Female. Multiple females.
Muffin’s fuzzy ears flattened against his skull. “Well....um..... shit!”
He gave me a nasty look, "What are you doing standing there, sweet tits? Let’s check it out!"
"Check it yourself, Cosmic Tampon! I'm just a kid!"
"Cosmic Tampon? Where the hell... Oh..for fuck sakes...Just follow me!"
Muffin’s starry tail flicked as we skidded around the corner—and froze. The alley pulsed with chaos.
Five Meiwa High girls—third-years, judging by their ribbon colors—were flailing like drunk flamingos as tiny, ink-black stars swarmed them. At first glance, it was almost comical: celestial origami chasing shrieking teenagers.
That was until one latched nastilly onto Nishioka-san’s thigh and bit down hard. Blood welled instantly, shockingly red against her pale skin. The star detached, leaving a perfect five-pointed welt, its needle-thin teeth glistening.
"Holy shit," Muffin breathed. "Those aren’t just stars—they’re goddamn piranha Kegarenoko."
"Who the fuck are Kegarenokos?" I shrieked, my whole world turning into a freaking nightmare of epic scale.
I was really hoping at this point I'd wake up in my bed screaming again. This time, I would actually LISTEN to my retarded sister and stay home!
"WHAT the fuck are they, is a better question?" He shot back, as they continued tearing into the girls.
"Who cares about the syntax!?! Aren't you gonna stop them?" I bellowed at him angrily.
"No...I can't.." Muffin said, suddenly looking very serious. He then turned and looked at me. "But...YOU can..."
"What the hell do you mean? I can’t..."
Muffin didn’t me me finish— he just used his one claw to open a tear in reality itself, the edges crackling with violet static. From the impossible pocket, he yanked out a staff longer than I was tall, the polished obsidian shaft humming with latent energy. At its tip, a glowing star pulsed inside a silver ring, casting jagged shadows across the alley walls.
"Catch!" he barked, hurling it at my chest with zero warning.
The staff slammed into my ribs hard enough to bruise, its weight unnatural—like holding a collapsing star barely contained by physics.
"The fuck am I supposed to do with this?!" I spat, fingers slick with cold sweat as the Kegarenoko swarm detached from Nishioka-san’s shredded uniform sleeve and pivoted toward me, their tiny teeth gleaming like shattered glass.
"Raise it and scream ‘Banshee Scream! Activate!’ you moronic meat-sack!" Muffin screeched, already diving behind a dumpster.
The nearest Kegarenoko lunged—a black blur of needle-teeth and malice. Instinct took over. I swung the staff like a baseball bat. The star at its tip flared violet, shearing through the creature with a sound like ripping velvet. It exploded into ink-black dust that stank of burnt licorice.
"NOW, YOU DUMBASS TEENIE BOPPER!" Muffin’s voice rang out from behind the rubbish.
The staff practically vibrated in my hands, humming with an energy that made my teeth ache.
Screw it.
I raised the heavy staff skyward, bellowing with every ounce of my pissed-off confusion: "BANSCREAM! ACTIVATE!"
The world *exploded* in blinding gold. Heat seared through me—not pain, but something deeper, like molten sunlight rewriting my DNA. My school uniform evaporated note by note, replaced by shimmering musical symbols that coiled around my thighs, chest, and waist like living ribbons. A crescendo built in my ears as the light sculpted a vest of white cloth edged in gold! At the same time, a large gold ribbon affixed itself across my throat, tightening around me with each breath until I could barely gasp. Long matching white and gold gloves materialized upon my arms with audible snaps, the fabric so sheer it felt like second skin as a very short mini skirt of the same colour scheme appeared around my waist, covering my most modest girl parts! I could almost feel a giant ribbon flowing off my backend, fluttering into the hot wind! The final touch came with a pair of thigh-high boots that clicked together sharply—as if announcing, Here she is, bitch.
The glow dimmed, revealing Muffin’s jaw hanging slack. "Holy shit," he wheezed, "you look like a fucking disco ball had a cocaine baby with a dominatrix."
I glanced down at myself—the vest hugged my breasts, but a large heart-shaped opening revealed much of my bosom with embarrassing precision, the gloves shimmered like liquid gold, and the boots... Christ, the boots had heels.
"What the actual hell is this?" I hissed, wobbling as I took a step forward. The staff—now sleek and humming—felt like an extension of my arm.
"Punishing evil wherever it decides to show it’s ugly face!!! I'm the bitch who's going to send your dark face back into Hell! I'm the Scourge of all wrong doers! Screaming for the innocent...I am...Cure Banshee!"
I spoke these words, not by my choice, but as if some strange force was forcing the words out of my mouth, then. worst of all. I felt myself pose sensuously, holding the staff near my mouth as I kissed it.
This magic transformation needed a visit from the fucking public decency authorities!
Then the voice of reason screamed out again, "Do you really need five minutes of posing before you fucking use your magic, Dumb ass?”
"Fuck you, Oscar the Louse!"
The remaining Kegarenokos screeched, their tiny forms recoiling from the light still radiating off my skin. One lunged, and without thinking, I swung the staff again.
"Banshee Scream... *Slash*!" The words tore from my throat, and the staff's star flared violet, slicing through the creature with a sound like shattered glass. It disintegrated into black dust.
Muffin's fuzzy jaw dropped further. "Okay, first off—naming your attacks? Super weeb. Second—"
I didn't let him finish. The remaining Kegarenokos swarmed towards me in a black tsunami of gnashing teeth, and I flowed in a sudden surge of power. The staff became a violet blur in my hands, each swing carving through their inky bodies with sickening crunches. They burst like overripe grapes—black ichor splattering across my stupidly shiny boots. One latched onto my corset strap; I slammed it brusquely against the brick wall until its squeals cut off with a wet pop.
I screamed, swung and blasted until every single on of the gnashing little fuckers were dead, their remains slowly turned into black gel and disappearing into the ground where they fell like thick bags of midnight ocher.
Then my eyes fell upon the crying, bleeding, terrified girls....
"Banshee Scream... Purge!" The staff's star pulsed gold as I drove it into the pavement. Ripples of light radiated outward, washing over the crumpled girls. Their wounds knit together with audible *snaps*, uniform tears resealing like time reversing. Nishioka-san gasped as the five-pointed welts on her thigh faded into pink scars.
The third-years blinked up at me—eyes wide with terror-turned-awe—before scrambling to their feet in unison. Their bowing was comically exaggerated, foreheads nearly scraping asphalt.
"Thank you, Cure Banshee-sama!" they chorused, voices trembling.
One—a petite girl with smudged eyeliner—darted forward to clutch my gloved hand. "You saved us from those... those *things*!"
My skin prickled under their worshipful stares. I used to dream of this...but now.... NO! It wasn’t right.
"I’m...just doing my job," I muttered, wrenching my hand free before they noticed how clammy my gloved palms were.
The vest dug into my ribs as I gestured sharply toward the alley exit. "Please.... *go*. In case more show up....besides, girls....it’s time for school."
Their gratitude curdled into fear—perfect. I wasn’t sure if it was fear of the creatures or of being caught arriving late, but it worked. They scrambled away like startled deer, shoelaces slapping pavement.
Only when their shrill voices faded around the corner did my knees finally buckle. The staff clattered to the asphalt as my transformation unraveled in reverse—golden light peeling away my ridiculous outfit strand by satin strand until I crouched there in my rumpled Meiwa High uniform, trembling like an electrocuted cat.
I rounded on Muffin, exhausted but fists clenched hard enough to leave crescents in my palms.
"Explain, you fuzzy cretin! Now." My voice came out shredded.
The little bastard yawned, reached into his pocket-dimension, and produced a steaming mug of coffee—complete with little foam art of a middle finger. He took a leisurely sip.
"Ahhh...Brazilian dark roast with a hint of cinnamon." His whiskers twitched smugly. "Details later, sweetcheeks. Right now? Those Kegarenoko buddies you just mulched? They're your problem now—along with every other nightmare critter crawling out of the cosmic woodwork."
I lunged for his throat—or tried to, before my legs betrayed me, still jelly from whatever the hell that transformation had done to my muscle memory.
"Pick someone else!" I snarled from my undignified sprawl on the pavement. "I didn't sign up for this sparkly bullshit!"
Muffin's whiskers twitched over his coffee rim. Steam curled around his furry face like some kind of smug halo.
"Sweetcheeks, the magic doesn't ask. It claims." He took an infuriatingly slow sip. "That whole 'ramming evil's face into hell' speech you gave? Yeah, that wasn't improv. That was your soul's resume reading itself out."
I lunged for his stupid tail—only for my foot to phase through him like he was made of hologram and attitude.
"The fuck—?!"
"Astral projection, dumbass." Muffin took another leisurely sip of his coffee, steam curling around his smug whiskers. "Rule one: magical guides are always just outta punching range."
He flicked his starry tail, sending motes swirling into my furious face. "Now shut your cakehole and listen—those Kegarenoko freaks? They're just scouts. More are coming, and guess who's suddenly Tokyo's shiny new exterminator?"
I snatched the staff off the pavement, its obsidian surface humming against my palm.
"Pick someone else," I growled, twirling it like a baton. "Some doe-eyed magical girl who wants to prance around in satin lingerie shooting laser beams."
Muffin slurped his coffee obnoxiously, steam curling around his whiskers. "Magic doesn't do auditions, princess. It smells the hero-stink on you." He gestured vaguely at my chest with his mug. "That whole 'protect the weak' complex you've got? Textbook magical girl material."
"I don't have a—" My protest died as Kyosuke's face flashed behind my eyelids—tiny hands clutching my sleeve after I'd chased off bullies from his class. My ears burned.
Muffin's tail flicked smugly. "See? The magic knows. You're a Grade-A Tsundere—all 'baka this' and 'urusai that' until someone touches your precious loved ones."
His furry grin widened as golden specks swirled around us. "Plus, every Kegarenoko you obliterate earns me a free week at the Celestial Bathhouse." He sighed dreamily. "Hot springs, plum wine, those little frogs that scrub your—"
My boot nearly took his head off. The little bastard dodged mid-sip, not a single drop of coffee spilling.
"Cheap shot!" he squawked, floating upside down like some caffeinated bat. "But fine, let's spell it out—you've got a heart, princess. Buried under sixteen years of sarcasm and designer perfume, sure, but it's there."
Great...now I'm a lovely magical girl....saving the day in a short skirt (and hopefully non-see through panties) and a furry Disney mascot I want to carry out a lobotomy on using a chainsaw.
My life is officially fucked!
