Magical Girl Pure Summer (1)

The scorched and torn blue dress was little more than a rag.

A slender frame about 150cm tall. She trembled in the aftermath of the impact, looking like she'd shatter if even lightly tapped.

I approached carefully and patted her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shoulder.

"Hey! Come on, snap out of it. You okay?"

"Augh... aughhh..."

She groaned. At least she was conscious. Magical girls' bodies really are tough.

"Uh... 911? No, I'll call the Association—just hold on a sec!"

I fumbled urgently for my smartphone in my pocket. But she grabbed my hand, stopping me.

"No..."

"Huh?"

"Report... ugh, no..."

Her slender fingers, overlapping my hand, were ice-cold. No reporting? That was way too suspicious coming from a bleeding, collapsed injured person.

The worst keywords flashed through my mind.

...Unlicensed activity? Don't tell me she's an unregistered illegal magical girl?

A chill ran down my spine. If this girl collapsed in front of me turned out to be an illegal ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠magical girl without Association approval, things would spiral into unmanageable chaos.

In the worst case, I'd make front-page news tomorrow. In the best, I'd be pulling all-nighters for at least a week on witness statements and incident reports.

She shook her head frantically at my eyes, flickering with suspicion and despair.

"It's... not... that...!"

Her voice, laced with injustice, came out ragged with labored breaths.

"Fully... registered... magical girl. Sniff, if it's reported... it'll go on record... and tank my evaluation. I have to get promoted this time..."

Tears welled in her eyes. It hit me then: these heroes and idols everyone worshipped were, in truth, just another breed of office drone obsessed with performance reviews.

"I wasn't supposed to take a hit like this... didn't predict the final suicide explosion..."

"You're hurt pretty bad..."

"Sniff, I'll recover with some rest. Could you just move me somewhere without people? Like that alley over there..."

"Sigh... alright. Let's go for now."

In the end, I sighed and helped ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her to her feet. Her mind seemed unbearably heavy, but the body leaning on my shoulder was far too light.

Deep in the alley, reeking of damp bricks, I carefully set her down. She leaned against the wall, panting roughly, then cautiously studied my face.

"Um... not that I should say this after you helped me... but why are you helping?"

"Does helping people need a reason...? Nah, doesn't suit me. Association investigator. It's just the job."

She visibly stiffened at my words. She'd begged me not to report, and here I was from the Association. Before she could pout and open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her mouth, I drew the line first.

"Won't file a report. I'm already off the clock—why pile on more work?"

"You just said it was work..."

"Yeah. Clocked out five seconds ago. This is personal time now. Good things stay good, right?"

She seemed at a loss for words at my shameless reply.

"...Thank you."

After a brief silence, her gratitude came. Instead of replying, I pulled a crumpled handkerchief from my inner pocket and roughly wiped the dirt from her cheek.

"You're Pure Summer, right?"

Her eyes widened slightly at my question.

"You... know me?"

"Who wouldn't? You're famous for minimal property damage. The way you hold back from smashing even a single streetlamp or sidewalk block—we rate that very highly."

While other magical girls wrecked the city with flashy theatrics, she always precisely controlled her power. Thanks to that, our compensation claims and repair orders dropped by several sheets.

"...Really? Everyone just said I lacked impact."

Her voice trembled faintly. Not basking in public cheers, but someone recognizing her unseen efforts—her expression strangely brightened.

"Glad at least one person notices."

She squeezed out a smile. It looked so pitiful somehow; I let out another sigh.

"So, how bad is it?"

"I'm really fine. I'll sit a bit and head home, so you go too, Investigator."

Her mouth said she was fine, but the system's verdict, forcibly intruding into my vision, was the polar opposite.

"Don't play tough. Looks like a rib's out of place—breathing's gotta hurt, right?"

Her eyes shook like there'd been an earthquake.

"How'd you... no, really, I'm fine. Rest a bit and my magic'll recover...!"

"Calm down. I'm not calling anyone anyway. But if I left Pure Summer like this and something happened, I'd be in deep shit."

I bent my knees to sit and match her eye level.

"I can use some magic-like stuff too. I can ease that pain right now. You'll stay sharp until you recover."

Her eyes went wide. A regular guy—especially a man—using magic-like powers was beyond common sense. I pressed my index finger to my lips and continued.

"But this stays our little secret. If the Association finds out, you'll face illegal procedure investigations and promotion blocks; I might end up in a lab. We each hold one secret on the other. Deal?"

"...You're a magical girl too, Investigator?"

"As if. How could a guy be a magical girl? Just a freak constitution."

"Not famous? That pooch magical girl..."

"......"

That's not a magical girl. Important, so saying it twice: that's not a magical girl.

She hesitated a moment, then replied in a trembling voice.

"Got it. I promise. Won't tell a soul... really."

"Then, consent to my ability use."

"I... consent."

The moment her words fell, I reached for her waist. My palm touched the slender side near her ribs, between the torn and scorched dress fabric.

"Eek, I-Investigator...! That's...!"

She startled violently, twisting away. A stranger man's hand directly on her rib area—embarrassment and shame flushed her pale face pink.

"Stay still. Not setting the bone, but offset position weakens the effect."

"But... too close... sniff."

She bit her lip and turned her head. Through my palm, I felt her ragged breaths and the alien jut of the broken rib. Another system window popped up in my vision.

These two should do the job.

A transparent warmth spread from where my palm touched. Pure Summer's eyes gradually softened. The sharp pain shredding her ribs faded, her anxious mind swiftly stabilizing.

"How's it feel?"

"Whoa, amazing. Still stiff and hard to move, but no pain."

"Pain's gone, but you're not healed—take it easy."

"Magic control's back now. Home's close; I can fly lightly. Thank you!"

She poked her side wonderingly, then looked up at me with a flushed face.

"Um... could you at least tell me your name? So I can... later..."

"No. We never met. You head back to daily life; Pure Summer aims for A-grade."

"But still..."

"Good's good."

I stood. She fidgeted her lips regretfully, then staggered to her feet. As she stepped toward the alley mouth, I recalled the one ailment still blinking red in her diagnosis corner.

"Wait. One more left."

"Huh?"

I grabbed her shoulder again. Probably from chronic insomnia and obsession led to that earlier mistake. Hoping this girl sleeps peacefully tonight, at least.

Slow and strong. No waking up midway.

A different warmth from before seeped through my palm into her shoulder. Not instant drowsiness, but by home, she'd feel cozy sleepiness.

"Huh... this one's warmer somehow."

"Sleep induction. Sweet dreams at home."

"Ah... thank you so much!"

With much lighter movements, she flew up from the alley end. Watching her blue dress vanish into the night sky, I shoved my hands in my pockets and headed home.

Unaware, the cryptic number beside her name kept climbing.