What was my childhood like?
I don’t remember much of my childhood.
Not due to it being bad or something overtly traumatic, it was just average (Upon discussing stuff with my therapist, I have since learnt this is not true in the slightest).
I was neither particularly skilled academically or physically, though I soon learnt later in life that this was due to how my brain worked.
A smart little awkward cookie who just couldn’t handle the pre-packaged Baked Goods that was expected of all younglings.
I was bright, devoured what I read and caught my interest, but it didn’t suit what the Adults expected, and thus I was branded an outcast. The interest in cephalopods definitely didn’t help with my peers either, atleast not until my 20s.
Eventually the growth hormones kicked in (Fuck being a teenager. Those who miss those days are either incredibly delusional, or they lucked out during their teenage years. Lucky sods), and changes wracked my form.
Some grew interested in the other sex, others were interested in the same but kept quiet about it.
Whereas I……just wasn’t interested. There were times when desire would flood my body, but I was lucky that I had read about what hormones could do to me, so I understood what I was feeling would only be temporary. The few who truly did spark something, recoiled from me upon learning so, due to either them having only been faking friendship with my for whatever reason teenagers do so, or preferred us being friends. I was fine with the latter, it was nice knowing how I could interact with them.
It was the former that started the process of breaking me, of learning the difference between being a person, and being an object.
And it was the loss of all of them at the end of my final high school year that started the cracks in my psyche.
I had spent my formative years making myself into someone they all liked, actively avoiding the things that, upon reflection, would define my adult life. The realization I had wasted my formative years on people who had been happy to drop me once they didn’t have to deal with me…………hurt.
I had denied myself, and torn myself into the wrong shapes, and it had not been enough for them.
I don’t remember the couple of years between High School ending, and starting my stagnant job.
I just remember the hate, the rage, the pain and the anguish.
Its still there, buried deep. I have long since accepted those parts of me. Those parts of me help when something tries to break me again.
You may have noticed I haven’t mentioned my family.
My mother is a good woman, who has had the world repeatedly try and beat her down and break her. It succeeded, but she refused what it gave her and fought her way back to something resembling normalcy. Atleast, as close as she can manage.
My siblings…..I resent them for how they were growing up, but I’ve since come to terms with them and we enjoy a nice peace between us. Not living in the same house helps a lot.
We won’t speak of the man who put me in a hospital. He’s lucky my mother and I still, for some unknown and most likely fucking stupid reason, allow him to stay in our lives.
My stagnant job was just that…..stagnant.
I was one of their better employees.
But I was neither Good Enough™, nor did I perform the needlessly complicated social rituals needed to bypass the Good Enough™ necessity required for getting promoted.
I was secluded, but it helped me start healing. But it stagnated at some point, and I became stuck in a rut, unable to leave.
It wasn’t until my Ikō-ki came that my life truly started.
************
Whats an Ikō-ki, you ask?
I’m not sure myself, to be honest.
I was alone in my tiny apartment, my own little stagnant marble of reality, when it just appeared with a flickering of the light, a strange dark metallic rod, eldritch tendrils of energy keeping it afloat.
The ‘head’ of rod is vaguely bulbous, with eight undulating bands forming the patterns along its length.
Heh, it just occurs to me, but it kind of looks like someone had attached a small octopus to a rod (This is how I knew it was mine).
It called itself an Ikō-ki. The strange mind voice it uses to talk to me is a strange blend of my masculine voice and a Japanese accent I’ve never had, and if it weren’t for the fact I hated how the words sound when they come out of my mouth, I would call it a soothing voice.
They seem to help transition small pools of stagnation, based on the stories it has shown me. My Ikō-ki (I can’t help but claim it as Mine) has shown me multiple stories: a princess became a prince and brought ruin to their prosperous yet corrupt state; a young boy became the Belle of the town and helped reunite the warring clans by falling in love with each of their heirs and tying their futures to one another; an adult who claimed bloody retribution on those who had claimed their body against their will.
But those are the Phantasmal stories, the ones meant to bring hope to those who have fallen to despair, to give them the motivation to rise above the masses or to sink deep into their minds and bring forth a new dawn for those who follow their darker paths.
But that was not meant to be my Story, atleast, that is my hope.
I want my story to be a stopover, like the smaller stories of local heroes and vigilantes, of those who guard the dreams and become the nightmare that nightmares fear within the dreamscape, those who sleep the wakeless dream and help heal the minds of their peers, of those whose only job is to look after their Ikō-ki until it comes time for it to move on.
I’m getting off track. My mind can’t help but wander when I think about my Ikō-ki.
My Ikō-ki is a strange magical artefact that most likely either originates from Japan, or spent enough time there that it has permanently affected its…..mind?
I’m still not sure how its ‘mind’ works. My Ikō-ki definitely has its own mind, since while we share tastes and opinions; it has since developed its own opinions and tastes, which I find fascinating.
The small few others we’ve encountered have ranged from nothing more than inanimate magical objects, to semi-autonomous drone-like constructs, to full-fledged sentient beings.
They seem to specifically be attracted to women, since I have yet to see any we’ve encountered with a masculine form. But considering they make us physically transform when we use them, I can’t trust what I see, I can only take the words of the strangers who are in similar situations to me.
……..did I not mention I can transform? From the sounds of it, My Ikō-ki was surprised at how accepting I was of the concept.
I had grown up watching cartoons of girls being able to transform into magical warriors, so this was just my childhood dream coming true.
My new form…….is too much for my liking.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the design of my outfit.
The cephalopodan dress is the stuff of eldritch nightmares, all dark blues, greens and browns, endless flowing in non-existent currents, the great red Mantle headpiece towering above me, 4 larges tendrils wrapped together like hair, ready to flare up and be used if needed..
The ammonoid shield stands tall and impassable, its eternal spiral unyielding to any.
The strange spraying creature on my right wrist, at time filled with a viscous ink that flows through air as if underwater, yet capable of delivering a highly venomous bite to anyone who isn’t me if they venture to close (This strange symbiote seems to share a link with me, since I’ve recently learnt that, if threatened outside of my magical girl form, my bite can be just as venomous).
But as with the strange curves of all cephalopods, my own body becomes much fuller, curves appearing where I typically lacked them. While gorgeous, it’s not my thing.
I prefer being on the ‘less filled out’ side of the body spectrum.
Though if the only downside to my form is that its curvier than I like, and I get a awesome cephalopod aesthetic as the positive, I’ll take that deal.
I’ve seen some of the lingerie others have been saddled with.
What do I do with this form?
…….just watch it move and react. Its more cephalopodan than human, and its fascinating watching the eldritch form just…..move.
There are times I go exploring the city, and stopping some of the worse crimes if I stumble upon them.
But exploring the dreamscape is what I mainly do.
Redirecting the mental eddies and currents around me, helping keep their lives just that little bit less miserable.
……I once tried to probe into That Man’s thoughts, to see why he put me into the hospital.
I couldn’t handle what I found, and now I fear to dive into anyone else’s mind.
If I’m a Magical Girl, who do I fight?
Thats a hard question.
In theory, The Decline. The literal concept of humanity falling into entropy. But as My Ikō-ki has shown me, The Decline just haven’t been active lately.
My Ikō-ki is of the belief that we’ll see a resurgence in the next few years, given the state of the world’s political climate.
But at the moment, I’ve mainly been ‘fighting’ other Magical Girls I’ve encountered.
Not to the death or anything. Only some of the newer girls try that, due to a rise in darker media. But those of us with experience quickly weeded out those thoughts.
At most, We spar and train. As I said, supposedly The Decline is coming, and someone needs to be ready.
I’m hoping my shift will be over by then, but it can’t hurt to keep the others who have an active interest in protecting the world on their toes.
Also helps keep me fit and in top form, when some of the more ‘morally straight laced’ Girls come and ‘hunt me’.
Why do I get hunted?
Because I have the Power, yet I don’t do anything obvious with it. Plus, as you can tell from looking at me, the ‘normal’ girls consider me an aberration.
I once asked My Ikō-ki if Magical Girls were inherently good.
He told me that each magical Girl is different, and we all walk different paths. Most walk the lighter paths, and some are consumed by that light.
I walk one of the newer paths. Because it is new-ish, and isn’t inclined towards ‘The Light’, they get it into their heads that theres something wrong with me, and I should be purged to allow my Ikō-ki to pass on.
Its not their fault. Society has taught them to fear the alien and the unknown, and one of our baser instincts is to fear what hide in the Dark.
But thats why I walk the Darker path. I shall shield those outside of the Dark from their own fears.
Luckily, I haven’t had to kill any of them. I almost did once, when I learnt my symbiotic sprayer could bite. The problem with young creatures with venomous bites, is that they don’t know how to regulate their venom.
That girl was lucky the Medical Girl was nearby. Five more minutes and her lungs would’ve been paralyzed.
*************
Oh right, you need my name?
Elle D. Rich. Its the name I chose before My Ikō-ki bestowed this strange power onto me.
‘tis a bit on the nose now, don’t you think?