church business

“You saw it? You saw the sacrifice yourself?” The dark-haired girl tittered across from me. …She hadn’t shut up since we sat down for coffee together. Her name was...Himiko something or other. The self-styled Shrine Maiden of the Golden Lady, my contact in Mitakihara, and yet another pain in my ass. …I tried to explain to her I was sitting in the stands, but she wouldn’t hear of it – it just made her talk more, and louder.

“Was it glorious? Did-did the screams fill the stadium? Were the people there awed by Her-“ Jesus Christ, kid, have you never heard of subtlety? I cut her off before she could go off on another tangent, and she deflated in her seat, staring out the window instead.

…I took a sip of my coffee. Black. Probably not what I would’ve ordered, but it was waiting for me when I got here. …It tasted pretty bad, but I guess I was grateful that Himiko – Shiraki, that was it. I was grateful Shiraki didn’t get me dog blood or something.

“…What’s the Black Shieldmaiden like?” I took another sip, giving the cup a good, long look this time. It was plastered with the image of some angry-looking metal singer. …I wasn’t really sure how to answer Shiraki’s question, but she didn’t give me much time to think about it before asking again, louder this time, with a face like a pet waiting for its master to get home.

“…Apostle Cooldown?” Pretty sure none of these people even know what ‘apostle’ means.

The words were razors on my lips as I tried to explain what she...what Murderface was like. …No, what the Black Shieldmaiden – what Warmaster Matsuda – was like.

She was amazing. She was...I don’t know. Enchanting. A blossom of violence in a garden of sinners. Seeing her work was watching a whirlwind of icy hate and manic, primal joy. Every gunshot, every bloom of fire and thunder from every grenade was placed with a steely tenderness that only a killer could understand. She made murder graceful. She made it more than just a game, or a job. It was her own sort of kindness, and she loved it.

…She was like me. She understood how it…felt. What it meant to kill someone. She stared through the horrible shit in the world and she stripped it away with her beauty. That was the Black Shieldmaiden. That was Matsuda Chiaki.

…There was more to it, but Shiraki wouldn’t have understood, even as she leaned in closer and closer, hanging on my every word. …She was infatuated, too. But she didn’t know Murderface. She didn’t love her, she just loved the idea of the Shieldmaiden. A savior for the sick fucks out there. A hero for the crazy and the bloodstained.

“I’d really like to meet her.” I bit back a ‘fuck you’. She wasn’t the one with a Kill Order on her head. All she had to do was walk to her Warmaster’s office and ask for two minutes to kiss ass. She was in the Ninth, she could just walk up to her and eat lunch together or something. My hand squeezed around my knife. Bullshit. It was bullshit. She didn’t even know her. She didn’t-

Deep breaths, Wendy-san. It’s over. You died, she forgot. You don’t have a place in her world anymore.

A gentle voice murmured from the table behind me, one that carried a golden warmth that made my cheeks burn a little.

…Yeah. …She’s better off anyway.

---

Much as I would’ve liked to ditch her for a late lunch consisting solely of a bottle of tequila and the barrel of my service pistol, Shiraki was most of the reason I was in Mitakihara. Apparently some Prophet and her goon squad had been giving them a lot of trouble here lately – the same Prophet, I confirmed last night, that was after Tomoe Mami. The girl Matsuda was hunting.

…If I knew Murderface, the problem was as good as cleaned up already. This was basically  a waste of time. But that wasn’t good enough, no matter how many times I told her. Of course she wanted to see the Shieldmaiden splatter the unworthy all over the pavement, but it was our job – mine especially – to join her. To help Matsuda hold up the unbearable weight of her sins.

The sanctification of the city began when Lucius and the false Prophet were crushed by the Blessed Lady’s power, she’d told me. The gates to the Golden Land had appeared in the stadium last night, and now every drop of blood spilled in Her name would pry them open more and more. …I was supposed to oversee a ceremony, the first offering the Church in Mitakihara made to Her.

Getting real sick of crazy bitches telling me what to do.

We reached the old Shinto shrine at the edge of the city a couple of hours before the ceremony was supposed to start. I don’t really know from shrines, but it seemed like the place had been fixed up recently. Probably the effort of a lot of girls, treating this like an after-school club, or one magic architect. …Guess it was a little cute, if they were all as cheery about it as Shiraki.

They’d wheeled in a huge flatscreen to watch the concert footage on. Must have been a bitch to get out here, and it’d be even worse if it rained or something. …Wasn’t really sure what kind of crowd to expect. Maybe they needed a projector or something instead. It didn’t exactly seem like much of a religious ceremony thing. Little like reviewing a tape of a bunch of fanatics firebombing a mosque before mass.

Maybe that was what they did now. Shit. I haven’t been to mass in like ten years. Not since Dad stopped dragging me out of my room to take me. …Wonder if he’d be mad if he knew about all this. Disgusted, probably.

Someone inched up next to me while I was thinking, like she didn’t think I’d notice. I grumbled out a ‘what’ while she was opening and closing her mouth like a fish with Downs Syndrome.

“S-sorry! Sorry.” …It was one of the girls that I met up with when I first arrived. Didn’t remember her name. Somethingko. Aqua blue hair, weird eyes. Nervous temperament. Probably expected it to rain, she was carrying an oversized umbrella that I thought might fit over the TV. Maybe she was the one that brought it.

Spit it out, Umbrella.

“Sorry! …Are you really the Apostle she sent? The Living Miracle?”

…Sure. Why not. It was like all these people did was make up stupid titles.

“Real…ly?” She cut herself off halfway through the word, like she’d choked on it, and the kid seemed to shrink as I stared at her. “Right. Really. I mean, why would you lie about that, right?” She spun the umbrella in her hands.

“So…did you meet her? Do you know the Blessed Lady?” Even cringing away, her eyes were wide, filled with a wonder you only see in little kids and idiots.

Now that’s rude, she’s your fan, sneered another voice, faint and distorted, like it came from the bottom of a sea of thick tar.

…Of course I’d met her. Met her on the edge of Hell, and she…

A high-pitched whine filled my ears, and a hiss that almost sounded like giggling. …Yeah. …I’d met her, and she brought me back. So I could see Kong again.

Umbrella took a deep breath.

“…I’m a little scared of her. Is she…is she really like this? Himi-chan’s been acting weird since she joined, and…I don’t know. I don’t want to bathe the world in b-blood. I’m not really…I just wanted to be friends with youkai...Sorry, I know this is probably…” She trailed off, gripping her umbrella with everything she had. “…Please don’t kill me…”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. It was sort of nice to know that not everyone that touched this whole thing immediately turned batshit insane. …I couldn’t give her a good answer. Couldn’t just tell her to run, not when I wasn’t sure what to believe myself. But I wasn’t going to hurt her.

“…Whatever you believe,” I told her, “don’t rush into it like a dumbass. A blood cul…church is probably not worth it if you’re not ready to serve a crazy murder god. …It’s something we always told the new kids back at the Eighth. You don’t get to take it back, once you start spilling blood. That taste stays in your mouth forever.”

She smiled a little, though something about it seemed kind of forced. …There was one other thing, though. Felt like I couldn’t just…I don’t know. Let the only sane person I’d talked to in a while walk away without hearing it.

“…Things are gonna get messy.  No matter what you do. Especially in Japan. The Ninth Warmaster – the Black Shieldmaiden, Her herald, or whatever it is now - knows that better than anyone. What that means, though…” I just shrugged, and she seemed to get the message.

---

I barely got a minute to myself after that. As more and more magical girls filtered into the grounds over the next couple of hours, they all wanted to meet me. Ask questions I didn’t want to answer, or questions they wouldn’t like the answer to. It was, unexpectedly, a hell of a relief when the ceremony finally started. …First time I’d said that about a sermon about the Blessed Lady in a long time.

First time I’d bothered to sit in on one in months, too. It was all the same, whether it was Alice or Shiraki, whether it was the Second or the Ninth. …At least they had the dignity, now, to strip away the bullshit. There was no beautiful goddess to greet us when we died. There was only a candy-scented monster with more teeth than face, and if you were lucky and the people around you were crazy enough to…to throw away way more than they should have, then you got to come back. But you wouldn’t sleep the same anymore. And everything would be cold, and she’d…

…Doesn’t matter. Nevermind.

“Sisters! Chosen! Beloved of the Blessed Lady! The Black Shieldmaiden has returned to us, and she has anointed our city with the blood of the wicked! The minions of the Prophet, the slaves of the False World, have fallen unceremoniously before Her Golden Power! The sacrifices have begun!”

Shiraki howled out her rhetoric the moment the video ended, her eyes glowing a sickly yellow-gold in the darkness of the evening. The crowd screamed mindlessly in response, beyond a few…less-than-enthused newcomers, like Umbrella.

“You have now seen Her Glory for yourselves – and not just you! Every blasphemous soul in the world now knows the Truth, now understands Her Beauty! The Age of the Blessed Lady has begun! The Doors of the Golden Land have appeared in Mitakihara, in our beautiful city, pried open by the power of the Shieldmaiden, who has finally chosen to grace this world and bear our sins once more!”

The screams became deafening, and an acrid, unbearable scent met my nostrils as I stared down at the magical girls that had gathered.

“Children of the Third Messenger, of the Tenth Messenger! Of the Seventh, and our foreign guests! Rejoice and honor the Ninth, the House of the Blessed Lady! The Officio that Our Shieldmaiden has chosen for Her Golden Army! Honor the Golden Light who leads us! Honor her Holy Blade, honor the Blood Knight! We are but servants under Her Power, and tonight! Tonight, we begin our service anew!”

…Shiraki paused for a breath, waiting for the crowd to simmer down. …She was breathing hard, her face flushed. …This was worse than Annie. This was even worse than V.

“Tonight, we begin our consecration of the False World, our preparation for Her arrival! Tonight, we cut away the first of its rotting flesh! Tonight, we too shall begin to pry open the doors to the Golden Land with our very hands!”

Lights, Callidus-provided I guess, shone down on the altar at the front of the shrine, silhouetting Shiraki and me as we stepped out of the way. …The scent got worse. I could hear it. I could hear Her.

…They’d strapped a girl to the altar. Bound tight by sacred ropes, gagged and blindfolded. Silent. Probably didn’t have a voice anymore. Maybe literally.

“Victim of wicked cruelty, child of the dead world! This creature will be the first of many to know the Lady’s Grace in Her loving arms! She is ignorant and broken, knows not her own misery! She mistakes paltry illusions around her for grand Truths! She knows only vulgar platitudes for joy! But now, now she will be free, and her worthless shell will be the foundation upon which we all reach the Golden Land! Apostle Cooldown, please! Please, honor this poor soul with the Lady’s mercy!”

My knife flicked into my hand of its own accord as I approached the altar. ...I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t do this. The magical lights on me seemed to burn me through my uniform. …I never pretended not to be a sick fuck. I’m a killer. But I don’t…want this.

Don’t you love her? Sweet breath in my ear as something…soft pressed against my arm, guiding my knife toward the girl’s chest. …A white, bloodstained glove rested on my own, with wicked claws that seemed to pierce through the metal and into my hand.

…This has nothing to do with her. She doesn’t want this.

Of course she wants this. You were there. You saw her. She looked like she was dancing, didn’t she? A small, soft head rested against my shoulder. …My gazed flicked to the side, and I met sunless eyes. Beautiful, sunless eyes, and a sweet, dark scent that filled my senses.

You’re doing all of this for her, aren’t you? You’re here for her. You came back for her. …I need you to do this. She needs you to do this.

…No, she doesn’t. This is crazy. This is…

You’re the only one who can, Wendy. You’re one of my chosen. A very, very special one. You’re my living miracle. We can show her to the Golden Land together.

“…And she’ll remember me…?” …I mumbled it out loud. I didn’t mean to. My mind had gone entirely numb, save for Her words.

She’ll always remember you, Wendy.

…

…The girl on the altar screamed as the knife sank into her chest, as it cut through skin and muscle and bone. As I dragged it down to her stomach. She thrashed in her bonds, what was left of her voice cracking in her gag. I didn’t care. I barely noticed. My body moved on its own in long, practiced strokes as my knife sliced down to her pelvis, and as I drew it again and thrust it into her thigh.

My arm was so light. My knife was a part of me, like it used to be. …The cold knot deep in my body loosened, then vanished. I could feel it again. Warmth. It was so easy, as my knife carved through her, as her thrashing grew faint, then limp. …It was a little too soon, though. I hadn’t even gotten to her face yet.

The crowd’s murmurs grew into cheers as Shiraki shifted, a smile of heated ecstasy growing on her face. Her hands moved, a flourish that I doubted was at all necessary, the gestures of a miracle worker. The girl – the near-corpse – under me began to convulse as her wounds erupted with a torrent of blood, one that whirled into the air, curling into a beautiful spiral.

As the girl was drained entirely, it became an elegant, shining snake that shimmered scarlet and gold in the light as it danced over the crowd, sprinkling red scales down onto their faces. …Clever. She’d cut her wrist to add more blood to it. Made a bigger show for the people. Preaching was half showmanship, I guess.

I left my knife decisively buried in the girl’s neck, but it would be gone in moments. It was me, and it never strayed very far. …I didn’t really mean to, but I smiled out at the crowd, with the soft touch of slender arms of a pink-haired goddess wrapped around one of mine, squeezing it into an almost-nonexistent bust. The stench of blood and candy filled the grounds, and I could see the love of the Blessed Lady fill the hearts of every single girl there.

For the first time since I'd died, I felt really, truly free.