Czlyydwr Llrngwl
"Sell ya a door Learn gull," Czly/Celly for short
- Location
- Where the Beef is
- Pronouns
- Any
The official answer has ranged from "probably not" to "not for years if ever."
On Fluttering Wings [Taylor Hebert in MGLN]
wtdtd
slow thinker, with crippling abundance of time
- Location
- The Netherlands
Taylor doesn't want to be part of the family, so you are both sort-of in agreement there.I will not accept Taylor being a formal part of Nanoha's family without beamspam. To do otherwise breaks my SoD.
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
Probably not.
EiosChronos
Delusional Dreamer
- Location
- Gamindustri
Taylor may not want to, but from what we've seen of Taylor here, she's clearly doesn't make healthy decisions for herself. Starlight Breaker therapy may be the only solution. (Please note this isn't for everyone. Starlight Breaker is only for idiots who can't sit down and make rational conversation or violently lash out at people. Please ask your local Takamichi if Starlight Breaker is right for you.)
- Location
- Virginia
I think that to an extent part of her does want to at least have friends again, because she's tired of what the Trio have turned her into, and with the way Nanoha is family will follow shortly after.😁
- Location
- A room?
I think, if the cooking omake is any indication, Taylor is going to be part of the family, just on her terms. For as much as fannon loves the Queen of Escalation Taylor, that was a process that has largely been cut off at the root in this story. Instead, I think Taylor is slowly going to get coaxed in from the cold by a relentless bombardment of cheer and kindness. It may not be orbital, but cooking lessons and hot tea are best delivered at close range. Actually, thinking about it, Nanoha and Fate can probably get closer to Taylor by offering to teach her to fight.
Of course that all goes out the window if some Lost Logia turns up from Mariposa's past.
Of course that all goes out the window if some Lost Logia turns up from Mariposa's past.
- Location
- Virginia
Also I would like to tell Stardust Falcon what a wonderful job you've done portraying Taylor's depression. Her desire to do better and her struggle to do so makes me feel for her. And I've always felt that any time an author can make you feel something for a character wether deep sympathy, or volcanic hatred they've done a good job with characterization.
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M. H. Fuzzball
Aperture Science-certified Horrible Person
- Location
- Sector 2814
Taylor is aware that she's not in a good place right now. The problem (as it is for so many people in Taylor's shoes) is that she can't see the way out. Right now she could give Shinji motherfucking Ikari lessons on the Hedgehog's Dilemma. There's been no Beamspam of Adoption because Nanoha is aware that even now, Taylor's fight-or-flight reflexes are on a hair trigger, and her 'flight' options include interstellar teleportation. So that's why Nanoha's going with the soft-sell This-is-what-a-family-looks-like-want-to-be-a-part approach.
But Harry Tribeca didn't get that memo...
I just found this story yesterday and I've read all the main threadmarks already XD And actually joined SV for update tracking... time to dive into the sidestories, but I just wanted to say thank you for writing it. I did not know how much I missed Nanoha (having not followed it since the first episode of ViviD was subbed...)
Crazael
Rehydrated Demon King
- Location
- Lost to the vagaries of time.
Welcome to SV!
Please check your sanity at the door. Wouldn't be the first time someone took a bit of damage to their sanity just hanging around on this site.
Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
How many times do we have to repeat this?
SANITY IS OVERRATED.
I AM SANE. THE WORLD IS CRAZY.
There.
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Sanity is defined by the majority. Why leave it at the door when it automatically redefines itself to local norms?
Leave it at the door if you want to keep a sanity that's suitable for interaction with the non-SV societal norms, I guess?
Context switching is important for capes and readers both... both must keep a mask on in public and modify their behavior to suit
- Location
- Beyond the Unknowable Veil
The voices in my head say I'm quite sane.
- Location
- America
I kind of want to see it, through Taylor should be involved on both sides, she at least needs to reassure her dad she not dead.
Episode 8: Who I Want To Be
Stardust Falcon
Legendary Creature - Bird Wizard
- Location
- The Infinite Sorrow
<What do you want to do?> Mariposa had asked me as we traversed the hallways of Roland Gym.
I was no closer to answering that question now despite having taken all the time I wanted to make Harry Tribeca wait for me as I carefully scrutinized the litany of rules and regulations that full-contact activity participants needed to adhere to before agreeing.
Maybe it would've been easier if I hadn't forced myself to be here in the first place. Easier if I could've just blamed everything on Harry and Viktoria, absolving myself of the responsibility for whatever happens next because it wasn't my choice.
But I couldn't do that now. Not when I had the power to just leave and was actively choosing not to use that power. There was nothing I could point to and say 'look, I had no choice,' no obligation that I was bound to other than the resolution that I had made for myself.
A thousand conflicting emotions ran through my mind as I stood at the bottom of the arena entrance with the staircase looming over me like Mount Everest. Fear and anticipation and anger and so much more swirled in my gut.
What did I want to do?
<Taylor?>
I hated that I couldn't answer that question.
I hated that there was a part of me pointing out that it was still not too late to turn around.
I hated that there was a part of me that wanted to punish a girl whose only actual crime was being way too pushy for everything that the Trio ever did.
<Taylor, I need you to say something.>
A few deceptively short steps later found me at the top of the arena, taking a deep breath and then letting it out.
Combat sports were inherently risky activities, but modern technology went a very long way to minimize that risk. A complicated series of interlocking limiters on both the arena field and all participants helped dial the force being thrown around down to safer levels. On top of that was an array of sensors and automated tooling installed originally to help further confirm combatant safety, and then expanded on to provide all kinds of arbitrary statistics and numbers to further blur the line between an actual fight and a live-action video game.
There was even an option to have quantified life points that we weren't using today but was apparently standard under several professional rulesets.
Everything was designed to be effortlessly used, presumably so that fighters could focus on the opponent in front of them without having to worry about also fighting the ring itself. My mind presented the image of a roller coaster. All I had to do was grab the restraints and pull down until they clicked.
And just like a roller coaster I could back out any time I wanted right up until the moment I passed that point of no return after which I was well and fully committed.
<Taylor, please.>
I closed my eyes.
<Sorry,> I sent back, sincerely, <I was still deciding. But I... I think I actually want to do this.>
And I punctuated that declaration by reaching out with my magic and locking myself in to the ride. A muted burst of magical power flared around me as my Jacket materialized in place with as little flash and circumstance as I could manage.
Enough of me wanted to do this, anyway. All the rest of me had to do was shut up and hang on.
I opened my eyes and breathed out the last of my hesitations. Without really thinking about it I reached back and pulled the gray duster's hood up over my hair to keep it safe and out of the way.
The arena looked a hell of a lot bigger from my starting place inside of it.
Viktoria stood some distance past the raised edge of the arena in what I supposed was the designated referee's area. Behind her floated Mariposa, who had professed an interest in learning and understanding how the arena systems all worked, and who certainly wasn't there in any way because I couldn't get comfortable in a ring managed exclusively by my current opponent's friend.
Mercifully, those two were our only current audience. There wasn't any seating on the arena floor level, but the ring of bleachers in a raised gallery on the floor above us offered any gym member or guest a safe place to spectate that was open access, so there wasn't really any guarantee that those seats would stay empty.
But I'd already committed and it was too late to worry about attracting an audience.
Harry watched me impassively as I took that one last look around everything. I refused to notice her Jacket, refused to notice the fact that she made the longcoat look work better than I ever could, wasn't going to comment on her abs on full display, forced down the irrational spike of jealousy at both the better figure and the confidence to show it off, stop smirking at me!
"Drinking it all in? There's something special about your very first time in the ring."
I didn't respond.
"Yeah, you don't really strike me as the type to go for pre-fight theatrics," she said.
I didn't respond.
She sighed. "Guess we'll just get to it, then."
I still didn't respond.
"Are you both ready?" Miss President called out to us.
I finally responded, nodding towards the referees. "I'm ready."
Harry just punched the air a couple times, bouncing on her feet, a wide grin spreading over her face, which I figured was her way of expressing readiness.
"Then in that case..." Mariposa began, before flexing her tiny fingers over a console screen that popped up in midair. "Here we go. Rounds go for five minutes or three downs, whichever happens first. Have fun, girls!"
With that, she hit whatever the holographic equivalent of a button is called, triggering the chipper synthetic voice announcement. [Fight!]
I kicked off immediately, rising up and backwards to avoid the sizable fireball impacting the ground where I had been standing moments ago.
An invisible barrier dome surrounded the arena to protect the supporters and spectators from any backsplash. Instead of sailing into the stands, any errant shots would merely create a momentary flash and spark to further thrill the audience. Unfortunately, that dome was also the defined boundary of the arena; if I crossed it under my own power, it was a forfeit, and that'd be an unacceptably embarrassing way to throw the fight.
But setting up right on the edge of the allowed space was perfectly fine. Ten feet off the ground meant I didn't have to worry about anything other than incoming projectiles, and even if one of those managed to push me over the line, that only counted as a ring out down.
There was no sense of artistry to my volleys. No real pattern or rhythm yet. Just a pure rain of bullets lancing down from my new perch near the top of the dome. Two each aimed at the ankles, knees, waist, five sent towards the heart, two more to the throat, scatterings of seven around every cardinal point she might obviously dodge to. And I wasn't too proud to admit that there was a small malicious part of me looking forward to watching her try and make it through unscathed-
"Gun Flame!" Harry shouted, throwing a straight punch that turned into a comically large cone of fire swallowing all of my bullets like rocks in a lake and forcing me to roll out of the way.
"You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to make me dance, Taylor."
...
My eyes narrowed.
The so-called Gun Flame was able to wash out individual volleys but that was fine. Just meant I had to increase the rate of fire. Quantity was its own quality after all and I wasn't limited by some video game MP bar or a need to reload ammunition.
Five experimental shots sailed halfway down before colliding with the opposition's own shots into harmless fireworks. Five more shots a second behind got the same result. Five more shots then splashed uselessly against a protective circle of fire. Ten more, no change, ten more intercepted, ten more intercepted, ten more blocked, ten more intercepted, ten more block- no, just seven blocked. Three got through, only lightly grazing her arms, but that wasn't the point.
Pace determined. I had my target and my lane and the necessary rate of fire to-
"Lava Mortar!"
Before I could even sarcastically ask myself what a Lava Mortar was I was frantically dodging out of the way of an enormous molten sphere which burst at my previous position even though it hadn't hit anything. But, instead of disappearing like the remnants of all our previous shots, the fallout hung loosely in a cloud in the air, still glowing energetically and gradually diffusing throughout the top of the field, a heat haze shimmering throughout. An experimental shot into the field aimed at one of the glowing clumps resulted in a fiery explosion. Mines, then. The fire quickly settled back into another glowing clump.
Regenerating mines. How obnoxious.
And I didn't really need a scan to know that the field was superheated and that trying to fly through it would be painful to say the least even if I could nestle myself between the mines and resume firing down without setting any of them off.
She'd torched the sky in an attempt to deny it to me.
"Did ya think that I was just going to let you hang up there all day?"
...But I refused to let anybody clip my wings like that.
I thought quickly as I stubbornly refused to give a single inch more than I had to just to stay out of the slowly expanding field. It wasn't chasing me around which probably meant that she couldn't direct the effect after setting it up. And the fact that she didn't lead with this the second I took off was a pretty good indicator that she couldn't just set off another Lava Mortar whenever she wanted to.
All I had to do was get rid of this one then. And while it, like the Gun Flame earlier, was probably up to the task of swallowing three of my bullets, or a dozen, or forty, well...
There was an upper limit somewhere in that system past which it would destabilize if I could only find where it was.
So I opened the floodgates and started chain-firing as fast as I could go, rapidly accelerating as I fell into a familiar rhythm from afternoons spent on unclaimed beaches. About ten shots a second were meant for Harry, just to discourage her from trying to interrupt me. I didn't really care how she was blocking or avoiding them and didn't even look at her.
Both my eyes, and the other hundred shots per second I was putting out, were locked on this annoying field.
Every mine burst into flames under the opening salvo but I kept going. Field magic had been something I had a loose academic awareness of, owing to the fact that there was an entire subset of tools and techniques dedicated to negating or destroying fields, but the training plan I had set was still a long way from covering that type of magic in detail. So instead of using a specialized shot or spell to choke the field off, I had to approach it from a different angle, likening it to a water balloon that I was deliberately overfilling until it ruptured, or perhaps the controlled demolition of a bomb that couldn't be safely defused.
Part of me subtly braced myself for the possibility that the field would explode violently when it destabilized.
But I still kept firing into the cloud. Mariposa would get me if I was at risk of serious injury and that she was letting this happen gave me the confidence I needed to keep going even if it might literally blow up in my face.
It only took moments for the amount of magic I'd forced into the field to completely fill it. That mass of unspent bullets began to push on the edges of the field, overwhelming its previous rate of steady expansion, forcing it to thin out. By simple virtue of all the unspent bullets I'd sent in and held there, the fires weren't able to pull themselves back together, causing them to instead keep burning. Only a few seconds later, they finally burned away altogether, the heat haze between them fading in turn.
Maybe 30% of my shots had burst in the effort, but there were still several constellations worth of unspent bullets hanging in the air. I drifted up into the center of them, quickly regaining all the height I'd been forced to cede earlier.
My feet hadn't even come close to the ground.
And now the sky was mine again. I couldn't help the grin on my face. Someone was laughing slightly. It was a nice enough laugh. I took a moment to savor this feeling.
Then I dropped the sky on Harry Tribeca.
She yelled something, another attack whose name I wasn't paying attention to, and I lazily rolled out of the way of a sustained stream of fire that swallowed up some of the descending mass of bullets but didn't make an appreciable dent in the whole. More bullets just converged to fill the opened space as soon as the stream ran out.
Then she had to brace herself as the bulk of the shots finally reached the floor, carpeting a full third of the arena in seafoam green explosions that quickly swallowed her up.
It wasn't really possible to precisely aim this many shots at once into a single target. That only a full third of the arena ended up taking bullets was something of an achievement. I watched carefully as the remnants of my carpet bombing faded from view, but the arena systems didn't need my opponent to become fully visible past the lights and smoke to announce [Down!]
...I suppose it wasn't reasonable to expect a KO on the first hit given how much of that barrage had connected with the ground instead of her. Still, point to me.
[One. Two. Three.]
As the synthetic voice began its ten count I took the time to steady my breathing. Structured matches like this ruled out attacking while downed; as long as the count was going, it would be illegal for my opponent to even start preparing an attack. On the other hand, it was just as illegal for me to begin priming my own attacks, which meant there was an enforced break period for however long it took my opponent to pull herself together. But even if all I could do right now was reset myself from the previous burst of exertion, it'd be foolish not to take advantage of the time.
[Four. Five. Six.]
"Ow." Harry drawled, her tone flat as she pulled herself up off one knee, rolling her shoulders, taking an experimental step forward. Smoke wafted up from the scattering of scorch marks that now decorated her Jacket and she made a little show of brushing some of the smoke away. "That stung. But I'm not even close to done yet."
The down counter stopped at seven.
"And it's fine if you won't come down here on your own. That just means..."
[Fight!]
She yelled something else to complete her thought but I didn't bother listening.
The bell had rung and the fight was officially underway again. With that, I opened fire, intending to just pin my opponent down with an overwhelming rate of fire and keep her from doing anything at all.
But she didn't even bother setting up to block my shots this time. Instead she dove out of the stream, throwing out a pair of hasty fireballs probably meant to obscure my vision more than do any actual damage as she took off running.
I drifted out of the way of the first fireballs only for another volley to come screaming in from a completely different angle. Dodging those too, I try and draw another bead on her only to find that she's nowhere near where I expected her to be, having crossed half the arena at a pace that would've made Olympic runners seem slow by comparison. I'd be openly gaping if I didn't need to prioritize getting the hell out of the way because the speed at which she was advancing did absolutely nothing to hinder her ability to shoot at me.
How the hell is she even keeping up with me on foot?! Sure, the arena is smaller at the top but I should still have the clear advantage up here!
Well, fine. I don't actually need to aim at her to pin her down. My shot rate is high enough that I can just go wider. Hitting entire quarters of the arena is perfectly fine as long as I also tag her somewhere in there.
So decided, I stop trying to aim a single concerted stream of bullets, and start firing off waves of expanding patterns instead. Dense clusters of bullets blossomed into sweeping spirals, wide arcing waves, flat walls, and other simple shapes. Most of it goes well wide of the intended target as expected but it's enough of an overwhelming spread that she can't just run around it. Even forcing her to start dodging only slows her return fire down a little, though, which means I'm still forced to keep moving instead of digging in.
I realize suddenly that she'd been holding back before. She hadn't actually left her starting position until I'd downed her once. Whether that was because she thought I needed or would appreciate a handicap, or whether she just felt like taking it easy, I didn't know and didn't much care.
Even if the way she was now dancing through my shot patterning while forcing me to scramble away from counter fire was starting to make it clear that I still had a lot to learn.
Even if there was a traitorous part of my mind that was starting to really get into this fight, feeling the rush in a way that probably wouldn't have taken hold without that initial down.
Even if a different part of my mind was reminding me that I'd never actually had a chance against a world-ranking athlete in my first ever fight against something that wasn't a training tool.
All of that could be true and I was still going to make Harry Tribeca pay for putting the kid gloves on against me.
That I swore. But she...
She's already completely closed the distance forcing me into a prolonged roll to evade yet another volley of fireballs coming straight up from below me punctuated by her cry of "Rising Meteor!"
Didn't take a genius to decipher what Rising Meteor was supposed to do based on the way she went sailing just inches past my chin as I rolled, leading with a glowing fist extended in an uppercut, foot glowing with what was probably some propulsion effect she needed to help her fly.
Why was only one of her feet glowing though...?
"Meteor Kick!"
Oh. That's why.
I can see the way the combo is supposed to work. Distract with the fireballs to make an opening for the uppercut to stun and then piledrive the target with the final kick. Too bad for her that she missed and I was still fully mobile in the air so I could just gently drift out of the way of-
Something pulled taut against my waist as I failed to go anywhere. I looked down in horrified fascination at the chain wrapped around me, following it down to its end where a knife shaped like a spear tip had been used as a spike to anchor it in the ground, tethering me to the floor.
When...?
The only answer I got was her glowing foot smashing into my stomach and driving the air out of my lungs to be replaced by searing pain before driving me back-first into the floor. Harry kept her foot planted on me for the entire drop. I hit the bottom and only then did she backflip off of me in a move that I only barely processed through the pain.
Some small intellectual part of me reminded me that feeling pain wasn't the same thing as being hurt, even as that part of me marveled at the way I could feel how the arena itself bent and twisted to cushion my fall, the impact reduced from 'probably back-breaking' down to something just a little bit worse than rolling fully off the edge of my bed, the force of Harry's strikes bled away into abstract numbers and data.
[Down!] I heard in the distance, somewhere past the haze, before I tuned the pleasant synthetic robot lady out.
My back and stomach both still hurt like hell, on top of a generalized feeling of weakness and pain from the attack magic, but I knew what I'd been signing myself up for. I'd forced Mariposa to take the kid gloves off when we'd started training dodging, so this wasn't even the first time I'd taken a shot to the gut. Also wasn't the first time I'd been laid out, no thanks to Sophia.
Really, credit to whoever designed these arena systems. Getting drop kicked some fifteen feet into the ground and then landed on wouldn't even make my personal top ten most painful life experiences unless I lumped everything that was Winslow High together. I was more than able to walk this level of discomfort off.
Not that I was in any rush to get up and walk it off. I had ten seconds after all, and if I couldn't get up after those ten seconds, then that was that. I could walk away knowing that I'd given it a fair shot and found out that my best wasn't good enough.
...But...
Could I really do that? I already made a resolution to myself to see this through, a resolution that was directly opposite to just laying here until time expired. And I was going to see that resolution through. Nobody was going to stop me.
Not even myself.
Hauling myself back onto my feet using a quick burst of flight produces a wave of disoriented nausea but I manage to get my wobbling legs underneath me in spite of that. At some point during this process my hood fell down, leaving my hair free to spill out behind me, but I can't find it in myself to pull it back up. I close my eyes and breathe out, then lift myself another six inches off the ground, just enough to entirely avoid the question of whether I could walk straight at the moment.
Another moment passed and then I opened my eyes, freed of the momentary haze from my rough landing and with the general pain starting to fade into the background. Looking around until I found Harry Tribeca, our eyes met and the most genuine smile I've seen from her yet blossomed on her face.
"There you are."
...What?
No, actually, I'm not going to even start trying to unpack what that's supposed to mean.
Mariposa pipes up suddenly. <Taylor? Do you want to keep going?>
Yes? Why-
[Nine.]
Oh, right. The down counter I'd tuned out before. Just getting myself upright wasn't enough of an indication that I was okay.
"I can continue." I speak clearly and for the benefit of the system, stopping the counter at nine. That was close.
Sure would've been embarrassing to grab hold of my resolution to keep going and then be knocked out anyway by a failure to state my intentions.
I take a deep breath, readying myself before the match resumes. The next moment takes a short eternity to pass by.
Hold steady. Wait for it...
Finally the bell rings. [Fight!]
Harry wastes no time in throwing out more fireballs aimed in the general area that I would've been in had I rocketed straight up and back like before. But this time I went hard to the left instead, correctly figuring there was a decent chance she'd try and punk me with an opening salvo aimed right at where I wanted to go. For my part I just go right to what's worked so far this match and start launching wide-reaching and intricate patterns of bullets, as much to obscure my own movements as to try and start hemming my opponent in.
If she gets another clean hit on me, I'm done for, and she's also got me beat in raw movement speed. But whether it's because she's decided to give me the Easy Mode fight for some unfathomable reason or just because she's too used to fighting in mixed battles where both sides employ melee strikes, I should be able to outpace her on pure shooting.
So as long as I can maintain my distance, I have a chance. Even if I can't manage to pin her down under fire, it won't make a difference; I don't have anything like a big flashy finishing beam move to capitalize on that anyway. And I'm not an aspiring athlete trying to put on a good performance here, so it's fine to win on hundreds of chip shots and grazing blows. Who cares if the audience isn't satisfied? I don't.
After all, I'm doing this for me.
I roll out of the way of a one-two fireball combo, climb to avoid another fire stream, dive underneath another fireball, keeping the pressure of continuous bullet waves going all the while. Harry remains content to keep dodging around and through the shots while returning fire at range. She hasn't done anything to try and close the distance yet-
No, wait, that last fireball was a cover for her planting her spike on a chain in the floor again. That's how she got me last time, isn't it? She's still holding the other end wrapped around her fist, which means she'll probably drag the chain around for a while to set up a circle and then pull it closed around me as part of her combo. Have to make sure not to get caught again by keeping her from running that full circle around me.
I rocket up into the air, flipping over gracelessly at the top of the arena and pausing just long enough to aim my next several shot waves straight down before diving to the midpoint between my opponent's back and the ring edge. Of course, she turns immediately to face my landing spot as soon as I pass over her head, but that's fine, if I keep making her turn around then it'll disrupt her ability to get her snare into place.
Getting behind her isn't possible with how quick she is even if I have the superior mobility and range. I'd only be able to manage it with some kind of teleportation to jump behind her before she can react.
Dimensional Transference won't work, though. That particular spell doesn't have a finer targeting resolution than the entirety of this room, owing to the fact that it was designed and optimized for distance travel. Even if it wasn't an instant ring out forfeit, there's no guarantee that I'd be able to land myself directly behind my opponent on the return trip if I tried to teleport across the arena by way of Vaizen. I'd need to modify the spell for short-range operation, which really means practically ripping half of the spell's... guts... out... to...
Unbidden, the fully expanded and raw source math behind Dimensional Transference unfolds in my mind. Buffer logic is only necessary at intercity and larger scales to ensure the target coordinates aren't in the middle of a solid mass. Remove that component, drop this calculation, and with both of those gone I can factor down this other bit to be much simpler...
My opponent, blissfully unaware of my sudden onset of mid-combat spell tinkering by virtue of the fact that it hasn't meaningfully reduced my shot production, throws out another handful of fireballs before abruptly switching gears, wrenching the spike out of the floor and then launching that directly at me instead. I roll over the top of the chain as the leading spike sails by underneath me and then flip around to see that it has turned in midair like it was a boomerang instead and is now rocketing back towards me.
Shit. She can control it in flight?!
No, worse than that, glancing back towards my opponent reveals she's doing nothing whatsoever to feed more length of chain out in spite of the fact that there is very clearly more chain now than there was a second ago. So it can change trajectory whenever she wants and it's exactly as long as it needs to be.
I cartwheel over Harry's head in what might have been an impressive gymnastics display from somebody who couldn't cheat through it by flying and take the time to throw a wave or two worth of shots at the chain behind me before pulling up and away again. Naturally, my opponent just grabs the spike out of midair instead of allowing herself to get caught in her own chain, a flare of magic causing the bulk of it to catch fire. Most of it then promptly explodes, with only the ends that she's holding remaining intact and the chain reforming to a much more manageable length between them.
Great! As if I didn't have enough reasons already to avoid getting wrapped up in that thing.
If there's any good news to be had here, it's that my opponent's jacket definitely has a few more singe marks than it did just a minute ago, evidence that graze damage from the flood of bullets I continue to pump out is starting to pile up, that she's not dodging perfectly or consistently. That's not much, but it's something, proof that I can tag her with shots beyond the first down that she pretty much let me have. And if I keep the pressure up, eventually those glancing blows will turn into solid hits.
Another wide cone of fire sends me into an evasive dive and I take a moment to confirm that the chain spike hasn't been planted in the floor again before pulling up into an Immelmann turn with a trail of fireballs splashing harmlessly against the barrier after passing through places through I had been. Leveling off, I-
"Lava Mortar!"
-run headlong into a second Lava Mortar that detonates right on top of me and sends me crashing roughly into the ground.
I flip myself back onto my feet before the arena can announce me as having been downed again but based on the way my knees buckle in the moment between touching the ground and falling back to supporting myself purely through flight I can't imagine I have anybody fooled. Certainly doesn't help that I need a second to gather myself and in that time, I've stopped shooting entirely.
Harry looks me up and down once and then smiles again. She's won and she knows it and it's infuriating. I glare back and move to resume firing because like hell I'm not swinging on the way down but she crosses the arena in the space between heartbeats and her fist is buried in my gut before I even fully process the fact that she moved.
And she has the nerve to whisper in my ear as she's delivering the finishing blow, the air being driven from my lungs for a second time ensuring that I can't possibly respond. "You pushed me harder than I expected you to. Good work."
Is that supposed to make me feel better about this?!
I can feel the heat and force building up in her fist as I hang there uselessly, just waiting for the formality of whatever stupid name her knockout punch is going to turn out to have, utterly defeated and unable to move.
...
That's not quite true. Maybe I can't really walk or fly, but there is one thing I can do. One way to ensure that I lose on my own terms at the very least. The modified, compressed, and streamlined spell I tinkered up earlier is right there at the fore of my mind, waiting to be used.
Another heartbeat passes us both by.
"Pile Bunker!" Harry yells.
And I blink out of the way, teleporting a handful of inches into the space directly behind her.
My hand moves up on auto-pilot, ready to deliver a punishing wave of bullets from a range that she can't block or dodge from. But when I reach for my magic the only thing I find is a crippling sensation of exhaustion and nausea.
<Taylor?!>
...Maybe that close-range teleport wasn't actually quite ready for use...
I fall backwards.
[KO!]
Harry frowned deeply as the announcement rang out through the arena. With the match officially concluded, she cut the magic flowing into her spells and slowly turned to face her defeated opponent, lying supine on the ground.
"Stubborn right to the end, huh...?" she sighed, shaking her head, wincing at the small spike of pain she got in protest from her body. The adrenaline draining out of her system was no longer able to mask the working over she'd gotten from Taylor. In a way, someone who fought primarily with large masses of weak strikes was even more dangerous than someone who hit you honestly with a single big combo. Much easier to keep track of how many times you've been downed than it is to keep track of a steadily growing mountain of minor cuts and scrapes until it suddenly becomes all too much to deal with.
And she did all that without a Device, too. The professional fighter was ready to give her an honorary win just based on forcing her to go to Red Hawk when she'd planned on only using it for her Jacket in this match.
But...
She spent enough time in the elite pool of fighters at the top of the world rankings to know what the difference was between someone picking the right moment to reveal a new attack and someone dredging the bottom of the tank for a spell that was nowhere near ready to go.
Whatever move Taylor had used to evade the Pile Bunker and get behind her was immediately, screamingly obvious as something that hadn't been properly tested. There was simply no chance that the amount of wasted power leaking from that spell got past any kind of simulated test casting. Actually, given how obvious it was even to her own below-average magic senses, that level of leak probably didn't get past a second look at the spell math before the testing.
Casting it anyway was completely and inexcusably reckless, in other words. The kind of sour grapes maneuver that spoke to an infuriating lack of care for herself and for others. The fighter wouldn't be surprised to find out Taylor's motivation for doing so was something like 'well, you can't beat me if I beat myself first.'
Harry sighed loudly and added it to the list of things they needed to work on.
Assuming Taylor allowed herself the chance to work on those issues, anyway. That remained to be seen. The other girl was a terrible fit for the professional circuit in the capacity of an athlete. But even so, she had wanted to better herself. Still wanted to better herself, or else she would've walked or transferred away at any of the opportunities she'd had to do so before.
Places like this were meant for just that. Taylor didn't need to qualify for Intermiddle as a prerequisite of sparring in this arena, didn't need to join a league before being able to train with her peers. In fact, if the professional athlete allowed herself to be totally selfish, having a sparring partner that she was guaranteed to never encounter in a ranked match and therefore never had to hold tricks in reserve against was as valuable to her as the companionship and camaraderie of training together would be for the other girl.
But Taylor had to choose that for herself, whether it was a choice to take another step forward under her own power, or a choice to allow herself to be pushed forward. It would be disappointing to see her choose otherwise, but Harry would respect that choice as well.
And she'd make sure everyone else respected it too.
The world slowly swam back into focus around me.
A quick check of the clock tells me I've only been unconscious for a minute or two but my whole body aches with the kind of stiff numbness that comes from not having moved for hours.
Mariposa's head suddenly fills my field of vision as she looms over me with a deep frown tinged by both concern and relief.
<You and I are going to be having a very long discussion later about why we don't 'just wing it' with new spell ideas.>
I... completely deserve that.
My Device nods to herself, correctly interpreting my silence as a concession, and pulls back to allow me some room to try and lever myself upright. Unfortunately, my traitorous body makes its own feelings on things clear immediately, and I don't manage more than about six inches before the discomfort forces me to flop back down to the floor.
"I meant what I said earlier, you know."
Please be quiet, Harry.
Of course, since the other girl is not a mind reader and since I did not say that out loud, it's only natural that she does the exact opposite of what I wanted, coming over to sit down next to me. At least she maintained a polite distance.
"You put out a really impressive showing and had a great fight. Maybe you see it, maybe you don't yet, but you're going to be incredible with a few more months of training backing that talent."
Mmhmm. Sure thing. Can you get to the part where you ask me to join up so we can end this-
"We both know that you becoming a pro athlete is a terrible idea, so let's just skip right past that."
Hold up. What? No, you're supposed to use the fact that you beat me to try and steamroll right over my objections.
"You came here to train, right? That's why this gym is here. What you're training for doesn't matter. All that matters is that you show up and put the work in. So. I thought I'd leave you an offer. Well, two offers really."
I manage to turn enough to see her annoying grinning face.
"The first being, any time you want a fight, or to practice against a live opponent, or you want a training buddy, anything like that, I'll be there."
There's a very awkward pause as she waits for me to ask her what the second offer is and I refuse to indulge her.
Finally she sighs, showing me a half-second pout before the bright smile is back in place like it never left. "The other offer is a hand getting up."
The glare I offer her outstretched hand could melt through steel. I redouble my efforts to get myself up, now powered by pure spite and the determination to prove that I can walk out of here on my own.
I scrape the bottom of my thoroughly spent reserves for just enough magic to get myself airborne. Planting both feet on the ground will be easy once I-
<Taylor!>
My flight magic sputters slightly before dying completely and in a way that leaves me bracing myself to hit the ground hard after overbalancing, squeezing my eyes shut and preparing for the wave of pain that will follow eating arena floor.
But the pain never comes. I dare to crack one eye open for just long enough to see that Harry Tribeca took it upon herself to catch me instead before squeezing that eye shut again in silent protest.
Mariposa sighs directly into my brain, her voice laced with fond exasperation. <Yeah, it's going to be a few minutes for you. Stop pushing yourself.>
"Please let go." I ask of the fuchsia-haired girl in a dangerously polite tone of voice. Half of me expects her to drop me back on the floor and the other half expects her to refuse.
Both are surprised when she instead says "Okay."
I can feel her slowly releasing her grip, giving me the time to get both feet on the ground and taking weight. When she finishes letting me go I can at least claim the dignity of standing completely unassisted, even if she's standing way too close by, ready to catch me again if I fall over on the first three steps out of here.
But I don't fall over, managing to get myself out of the arena and onto a very comfortable couch set up in the adjoining tunnel next to the arena, whereupon I finally get room to breathe in back.
Miss President walks in a few seconds later from the other direction, a sealed soda can in her hand. She smiles at me, offering up the can. "Here. It's important to rehydrate after an exhausting match."
I go to refuse the can out of spite but I can feel the warning glare my Device is giving me and so I decide to give in instead.
"Power Water." I read aloud, popping the can open which produces a delightful fizz. This is pretty much just soda water, isn't it?
<Soda water and electrolytes.>
Ah. It's flavorless Gatorade.
I drink it anyway. Despite having no flavor it feels like manna from heaven against my incredibly parched throat that I had been ignoring until just that moment.
...Damn it. "Thank you," I offer sincerely.
"Think nothing of it." Viktoria responds earnestly.
Nobody said anything else.
Several minutes passed in silence before I was rested enough to get myself out of this gym. A hundred conflicting emotions pass through my head as I prepare to jump back to Nanoha's house. Anger, sadness, and plenty of unidentifiable things too. There are so many things I could say, things I want to say, but when I go to speak the only thing that comes out is...
"I'll be back soon."
And I know for a fact that I mean that.
Next On Fluttering Wings...
A raven-haired girl materializes in a very well-appointed kitchen, alone save for the small fairy floating patiently at her shoulder.
Nobody else is nearby, but that doesn't seem to bother the girl at all as she carefully makes her way over to the refrigerator in search of a snack to cut down her growing hunger.
Opening the fridge reveals a lot of perishable ingredients and a selection of drinks. However, the only thing ready to eat is somebody's breakfast leftovers, an egg-and-rice creation with a vegetable hash in a resealable glass container.
There's a note stuck to the top of the container. It reads,
'Taylor -
There is always a place for you at the table. Please don't be afraid to take it.
- Nanoha.'
The girl lets out a sigh as though she'd just been given terrible news.
A moment passes before she speaks out loud. "Well, I might as well. It does have my name on it."
So decided, Taylor carefully removes the note from the container and the container from the fridge, bringing the breakfast she had skipped out on before over to the microwave oven for reheating.
Episode 9: New Beginnings!
I was no closer to answering that question now despite having taken all the time I wanted to make Harry Tribeca wait for me as I carefully scrutinized the litany of rules and regulations that full-contact activity participants needed to adhere to before agreeing.
Maybe it would've been easier if I hadn't forced myself to be here in the first place. Easier if I could've just blamed everything on Harry and Viktoria, absolving myself of the responsibility for whatever happens next because it wasn't my choice.
But I couldn't do that now. Not when I had the power to just leave and was actively choosing not to use that power. There was nothing I could point to and say 'look, I had no choice,' no obligation that I was bound to other than the resolution that I had made for myself.
A thousand conflicting emotions ran through my mind as I stood at the bottom of the arena entrance with the staircase looming over me like Mount Everest. Fear and anticipation and anger and so much more swirled in my gut.
What did I want to do?
<Taylor?>
I hated that I couldn't answer that question.
I hated that there was a part of me pointing out that it was still not too late to turn around.
I hated that there was a part of me that wanted to punish a girl whose only actual crime was being way too pushy for everything that the Trio ever did.
<Taylor, I need you to say something.>
A few deceptively short steps later found me at the top of the arena, taking a deep breath and then letting it out.
Combat sports were inherently risky activities, but modern technology went a very long way to minimize that risk. A complicated series of interlocking limiters on both the arena field and all participants helped dial the force being thrown around down to safer levels. On top of that was an array of sensors and automated tooling installed originally to help further confirm combatant safety, and then expanded on to provide all kinds of arbitrary statistics and numbers to further blur the line between an actual fight and a live-action video game.
There was even an option to have quantified life points that we weren't using today but was apparently standard under several professional rulesets.
Everything was designed to be effortlessly used, presumably so that fighters could focus on the opponent in front of them without having to worry about also fighting the ring itself. My mind presented the image of a roller coaster. All I had to do was grab the restraints and pull down until they clicked.
And just like a roller coaster I could back out any time I wanted right up until the moment I passed that point of no return after which I was well and fully committed.
<Taylor, please.>
I closed my eyes.
<Sorry,> I sent back, sincerely, <I was still deciding. But I... I think I actually want to do this.>
And I punctuated that declaration by reaching out with my magic and locking myself in to the ride. A muted burst of magical power flared around me as my Jacket materialized in place with as little flash and circumstance as I could manage.
Enough of me wanted to do this, anyway. All the rest of me had to do was shut up and hang on.
On Fluttering Wings
Episode 8:
Who I Want To Be
Episode 8:
Who I Want To Be
I opened my eyes and breathed out the last of my hesitations. Without really thinking about it I reached back and pulled the gray duster's hood up over my hair to keep it safe and out of the way.
The arena looked a hell of a lot bigger from my starting place inside of it.
Viktoria stood some distance past the raised edge of the arena in what I supposed was the designated referee's area. Behind her floated Mariposa, who had professed an interest in learning and understanding how the arena systems all worked, and who certainly wasn't there in any way because I couldn't get comfortable in a ring managed exclusively by my current opponent's friend.
Mercifully, those two were our only current audience. There wasn't any seating on the arena floor level, but the ring of bleachers in a raised gallery on the floor above us offered any gym member or guest a safe place to spectate that was open access, so there wasn't really any guarantee that those seats would stay empty.
But I'd already committed and it was too late to worry about attracting an audience.
Harry watched me impassively as I took that one last look around everything. I refused to notice her Jacket, refused to notice the fact that she made the longcoat look work better than I ever could, wasn't going to comment on her abs on full display, forced down the irrational spike of jealousy at both the better figure and the confidence to show it off, stop smirking at me!
"Drinking it all in? There's something special about your very first time in the ring."
I didn't respond.
"Yeah, you don't really strike me as the type to go for pre-fight theatrics," she said.
I didn't respond.
She sighed. "Guess we'll just get to it, then."
I still didn't respond.
"Are you both ready?" Miss President called out to us.
I finally responded, nodding towards the referees. "I'm ready."
Harry just punched the air a couple times, bouncing on her feet, a wide grin spreading over her face, which I figured was her way of expressing readiness.
"Then in that case..." Mariposa began, before flexing her tiny fingers over a console screen that popped up in midair. "Here we go. Rounds go for five minutes or three downs, whichever happens first. Have fun, girls!"
With that, she hit whatever the holographic equivalent of a button is called, triggering the chipper synthetic voice announcement. [Fight!]
I kicked off immediately, rising up and backwards to avoid the sizable fireball impacting the ground where I had been standing moments ago.
An invisible barrier dome surrounded the arena to protect the supporters and spectators from any backsplash. Instead of sailing into the stands, any errant shots would merely create a momentary flash and spark to further thrill the audience. Unfortunately, that dome was also the defined boundary of the arena; if I crossed it under my own power, it was a forfeit, and that'd be an unacceptably embarrassing way to throw the fight.
But setting up right on the edge of the allowed space was perfectly fine. Ten feet off the ground meant I didn't have to worry about anything other than incoming projectiles, and even if one of those managed to push me over the line, that only counted as a ring out down.
There was no sense of artistry to my volleys. No real pattern or rhythm yet. Just a pure rain of bullets lancing down from my new perch near the top of the dome. Two each aimed at the ankles, knees, waist, five sent towards the heart, two more to the throat, scatterings of seven around every cardinal point she might obviously dodge to. And I wasn't too proud to admit that there was a small malicious part of me looking forward to watching her try and make it through unscathed-
"Gun Flame!" Harry shouted, throwing a straight punch that turned into a comically large cone of fire swallowing all of my bullets like rocks in a lake and forcing me to roll out of the way.
"You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to make me dance, Taylor."
...
My eyes narrowed.
The so-called Gun Flame was able to wash out individual volleys but that was fine. Just meant I had to increase the rate of fire. Quantity was its own quality after all and I wasn't limited by some video game MP bar or a need to reload ammunition.
Five experimental shots sailed halfway down before colliding with the opposition's own shots into harmless fireworks. Five more shots a second behind got the same result. Five more shots then splashed uselessly against a protective circle of fire. Ten more, no change, ten more intercepted, ten more intercepted, ten more blocked, ten more intercepted, ten more block- no, just seven blocked. Three got through, only lightly grazing her arms, but that wasn't the point.
Pace determined. I had my target and my lane and the necessary rate of fire to-
"Lava Mortar!"
Before I could even sarcastically ask myself what a Lava Mortar was I was frantically dodging out of the way of an enormous molten sphere which burst at my previous position even though it hadn't hit anything. But, instead of disappearing like the remnants of all our previous shots, the fallout hung loosely in a cloud in the air, still glowing energetically and gradually diffusing throughout the top of the field, a heat haze shimmering throughout. An experimental shot into the field aimed at one of the glowing clumps resulted in a fiery explosion. Mines, then. The fire quickly settled back into another glowing clump.
Regenerating mines. How obnoxious.
And I didn't really need a scan to know that the field was superheated and that trying to fly through it would be painful to say the least even if I could nestle myself between the mines and resume firing down without setting any of them off.
She'd torched the sky in an attempt to deny it to me.
"Did ya think that I was just going to let you hang up there all day?"
...But I refused to let anybody clip my wings like that.
I thought quickly as I stubbornly refused to give a single inch more than I had to just to stay out of the slowly expanding field. It wasn't chasing me around which probably meant that she couldn't direct the effect after setting it up. And the fact that she didn't lead with this the second I took off was a pretty good indicator that she couldn't just set off another Lava Mortar whenever she wanted to.
All I had to do was get rid of this one then. And while it, like the Gun Flame earlier, was probably up to the task of swallowing three of my bullets, or a dozen, or forty, well...
There was an upper limit somewhere in that system past which it would destabilize if I could only find where it was.
So I opened the floodgates and started chain-firing as fast as I could go, rapidly accelerating as I fell into a familiar rhythm from afternoons spent on unclaimed beaches. About ten shots a second were meant for Harry, just to discourage her from trying to interrupt me. I didn't really care how she was blocking or avoiding them and didn't even look at her.
Both my eyes, and the other hundred shots per second I was putting out, were locked on this annoying field.
Every mine burst into flames under the opening salvo but I kept going. Field magic had been something I had a loose academic awareness of, owing to the fact that there was an entire subset of tools and techniques dedicated to negating or destroying fields, but the training plan I had set was still a long way from covering that type of magic in detail. So instead of using a specialized shot or spell to choke the field off, I had to approach it from a different angle, likening it to a water balloon that I was deliberately overfilling until it ruptured, or perhaps the controlled demolition of a bomb that couldn't be safely defused.
Part of me subtly braced myself for the possibility that the field would explode violently when it destabilized.
But I still kept firing into the cloud. Mariposa would get me if I was at risk of serious injury and that she was letting this happen gave me the confidence I needed to keep going even if it might literally blow up in my face.
It only took moments for the amount of magic I'd forced into the field to completely fill it. That mass of unspent bullets began to push on the edges of the field, overwhelming its previous rate of steady expansion, forcing it to thin out. By simple virtue of all the unspent bullets I'd sent in and held there, the fires weren't able to pull themselves back together, causing them to instead keep burning. Only a few seconds later, they finally burned away altogether, the heat haze between them fading in turn.
Maybe 30% of my shots had burst in the effort, but there were still several constellations worth of unspent bullets hanging in the air. I drifted up into the center of them, quickly regaining all the height I'd been forced to cede earlier.
My feet hadn't even come close to the ground.
And now the sky was mine again. I couldn't help the grin on my face. Someone was laughing slightly. It was a nice enough laugh. I took a moment to savor this feeling.
Then I dropped the sky on Harry Tribeca.
She yelled something, another attack whose name I wasn't paying attention to, and I lazily rolled out of the way of a sustained stream of fire that swallowed up some of the descending mass of bullets but didn't make an appreciable dent in the whole. More bullets just converged to fill the opened space as soon as the stream ran out.
Then she had to brace herself as the bulk of the shots finally reached the floor, carpeting a full third of the arena in seafoam green explosions that quickly swallowed her up.
It wasn't really possible to precisely aim this many shots at once into a single target. That only a full third of the arena ended up taking bullets was something of an achievement. I watched carefully as the remnants of my carpet bombing faded from view, but the arena systems didn't need my opponent to become fully visible past the lights and smoke to announce [Down!]
...I suppose it wasn't reasonable to expect a KO on the first hit given how much of that barrage had connected with the ground instead of her. Still, point to me.
[One. Two. Three.]
As the synthetic voice began its ten count I took the time to steady my breathing. Structured matches like this ruled out attacking while downed; as long as the count was going, it would be illegal for my opponent to even start preparing an attack. On the other hand, it was just as illegal for me to begin priming my own attacks, which meant there was an enforced break period for however long it took my opponent to pull herself together. But even if all I could do right now was reset myself from the previous burst of exertion, it'd be foolish not to take advantage of the time.
[Four. Five. Six.]
"Ow." Harry drawled, her tone flat as she pulled herself up off one knee, rolling her shoulders, taking an experimental step forward. Smoke wafted up from the scattering of scorch marks that now decorated her Jacket and she made a little show of brushing some of the smoke away. "That stung. But I'm not even close to done yet."
The down counter stopped at seven.
"And it's fine if you won't come down here on your own. That just means..."
[Fight!]
She yelled something else to complete her thought but I didn't bother listening.
The bell had rung and the fight was officially underway again. With that, I opened fire, intending to just pin my opponent down with an overwhelming rate of fire and keep her from doing anything at all.
But she didn't even bother setting up to block my shots this time. Instead she dove out of the stream, throwing out a pair of hasty fireballs probably meant to obscure my vision more than do any actual damage as she took off running.
I drifted out of the way of the first fireballs only for another volley to come screaming in from a completely different angle. Dodging those too, I try and draw another bead on her only to find that she's nowhere near where I expected her to be, having crossed half the arena at a pace that would've made Olympic runners seem slow by comparison. I'd be openly gaping if I didn't need to prioritize getting the hell out of the way because the speed at which she was advancing did absolutely nothing to hinder her ability to shoot at me.
How the hell is she even keeping up with me on foot?! Sure, the arena is smaller at the top but I should still have the clear advantage up here!
Well, fine. I don't actually need to aim at her to pin her down. My shot rate is high enough that I can just go wider. Hitting entire quarters of the arena is perfectly fine as long as I also tag her somewhere in there.
So decided, I stop trying to aim a single concerted stream of bullets, and start firing off waves of expanding patterns instead. Dense clusters of bullets blossomed into sweeping spirals, wide arcing waves, flat walls, and other simple shapes. Most of it goes well wide of the intended target as expected but it's enough of an overwhelming spread that she can't just run around it. Even forcing her to start dodging only slows her return fire down a little, though, which means I'm still forced to keep moving instead of digging in.
I realize suddenly that she'd been holding back before. She hadn't actually left her starting position until I'd downed her once. Whether that was because she thought I needed or would appreciate a handicap, or whether she just felt like taking it easy, I didn't know and didn't much care.
Even if the way she was now dancing through my shot patterning while forcing me to scramble away from counter fire was starting to make it clear that I still had a lot to learn.
Even if there was a traitorous part of my mind that was starting to really get into this fight, feeling the rush in a way that probably wouldn't have taken hold without that initial down.
Even if a different part of my mind was reminding me that I'd never actually had a chance against a world-ranking athlete in my first ever fight against something that wasn't a training tool.
All of that could be true and I was still going to make Harry Tribeca pay for putting the kid gloves on against me.
That I swore. But she...
She's already completely closed the distance forcing me into a prolonged roll to evade yet another volley of fireballs coming straight up from below me punctuated by her cry of "Rising Meteor!"
Didn't take a genius to decipher what Rising Meteor was supposed to do based on the way she went sailing just inches past my chin as I rolled, leading with a glowing fist extended in an uppercut, foot glowing with what was probably some propulsion effect she needed to help her fly.
Why was only one of her feet glowing though...?
"Meteor Kick!"
Oh. That's why.
I can see the way the combo is supposed to work. Distract with the fireballs to make an opening for the uppercut to stun and then piledrive the target with the final kick. Too bad for her that she missed and I was still fully mobile in the air so I could just gently drift out of the way of-
Something pulled taut against my waist as I failed to go anywhere. I looked down in horrified fascination at the chain wrapped around me, following it down to its end where a knife shaped like a spear tip had been used as a spike to anchor it in the ground, tethering me to the floor.
When...?
The only answer I got was her glowing foot smashing into my stomach and driving the air out of my lungs to be replaced by searing pain before driving me back-first into the floor. Harry kept her foot planted on me for the entire drop. I hit the bottom and only then did she backflip off of me in a move that I only barely processed through the pain.
Some small intellectual part of me reminded me that feeling pain wasn't the same thing as being hurt, even as that part of me marveled at the way I could feel how the arena itself bent and twisted to cushion my fall, the impact reduced from 'probably back-breaking' down to something just a little bit worse than rolling fully off the edge of my bed, the force of Harry's strikes bled away into abstract numbers and data.
[Down!] I heard in the distance, somewhere past the haze, before I tuned the pleasant synthetic robot lady out.
My back and stomach both still hurt like hell, on top of a generalized feeling of weakness and pain from the attack magic, but I knew what I'd been signing myself up for. I'd forced Mariposa to take the kid gloves off when we'd started training dodging, so this wasn't even the first time I'd taken a shot to the gut. Also wasn't the first time I'd been laid out, no thanks to Sophia.
Really, credit to whoever designed these arena systems. Getting drop kicked some fifteen feet into the ground and then landed on wouldn't even make my personal top ten most painful life experiences unless I lumped everything that was Winslow High together. I was more than able to walk this level of discomfort off.
Not that I was in any rush to get up and walk it off. I had ten seconds after all, and if I couldn't get up after those ten seconds, then that was that. I could walk away knowing that I'd given it a fair shot and found out that my best wasn't good enough.
...But...
Could I really do that? I already made a resolution to myself to see this through, a resolution that was directly opposite to just laying here until time expired. And I was going to see that resolution through. Nobody was going to stop me.
Not even myself.
Hauling myself back onto my feet using a quick burst of flight produces a wave of disoriented nausea but I manage to get my wobbling legs underneath me in spite of that. At some point during this process my hood fell down, leaving my hair free to spill out behind me, but I can't find it in myself to pull it back up. I close my eyes and breathe out, then lift myself another six inches off the ground, just enough to entirely avoid the question of whether I could walk straight at the moment.
Another moment passed and then I opened my eyes, freed of the momentary haze from my rough landing and with the general pain starting to fade into the background. Looking around until I found Harry Tribeca, our eyes met and the most genuine smile I've seen from her yet blossomed on her face.
"There you are."
...What?
No, actually, I'm not going to even start trying to unpack what that's supposed to mean.
Mariposa pipes up suddenly. <Taylor? Do you want to keep going?>
Yes? Why-
[Nine.]
Oh, right. The down counter I'd tuned out before. Just getting myself upright wasn't enough of an indication that I was okay.
"I can continue." I speak clearly and for the benefit of the system, stopping the counter at nine. That was close.
Sure would've been embarrassing to grab hold of my resolution to keep going and then be knocked out anyway by a failure to state my intentions.
I take a deep breath, readying myself before the match resumes. The next moment takes a short eternity to pass by.
Hold steady. Wait for it...
Finally the bell rings. [Fight!]
Harry wastes no time in throwing out more fireballs aimed in the general area that I would've been in had I rocketed straight up and back like before. But this time I went hard to the left instead, correctly figuring there was a decent chance she'd try and punk me with an opening salvo aimed right at where I wanted to go. For my part I just go right to what's worked so far this match and start launching wide-reaching and intricate patterns of bullets, as much to obscure my own movements as to try and start hemming my opponent in.
If she gets another clean hit on me, I'm done for, and she's also got me beat in raw movement speed. But whether it's because she's decided to give me the Easy Mode fight for some unfathomable reason or just because she's too used to fighting in mixed battles where both sides employ melee strikes, I should be able to outpace her on pure shooting.
So as long as I can maintain my distance, I have a chance. Even if I can't manage to pin her down under fire, it won't make a difference; I don't have anything like a big flashy finishing beam move to capitalize on that anyway. And I'm not an aspiring athlete trying to put on a good performance here, so it's fine to win on hundreds of chip shots and grazing blows. Who cares if the audience isn't satisfied? I don't.
After all, I'm doing this for me.
I roll out of the way of a one-two fireball combo, climb to avoid another fire stream, dive underneath another fireball, keeping the pressure of continuous bullet waves going all the while. Harry remains content to keep dodging around and through the shots while returning fire at range. She hasn't done anything to try and close the distance yet-
No, wait, that last fireball was a cover for her planting her spike on a chain in the floor again. That's how she got me last time, isn't it? She's still holding the other end wrapped around her fist, which means she'll probably drag the chain around for a while to set up a circle and then pull it closed around me as part of her combo. Have to make sure not to get caught again by keeping her from running that full circle around me.
I rocket up into the air, flipping over gracelessly at the top of the arena and pausing just long enough to aim my next several shot waves straight down before diving to the midpoint between my opponent's back and the ring edge. Of course, she turns immediately to face my landing spot as soon as I pass over her head, but that's fine, if I keep making her turn around then it'll disrupt her ability to get her snare into place.
Getting behind her isn't possible with how quick she is even if I have the superior mobility and range. I'd only be able to manage it with some kind of teleportation to jump behind her before she can react.
Dimensional Transference won't work, though. That particular spell doesn't have a finer targeting resolution than the entirety of this room, owing to the fact that it was designed and optimized for distance travel. Even if it wasn't an instant ring out forfeit, there's no guarantee that I'd be able to land myself directly behind my opponent on the return trip if I tried to teleport across the arena by way of Vaizen. I'd need to modify the spell for short-range operation, which really means practically ripping half of the spell's... guts... out... to...
Unbidden, the fully expanded and raw source math behind Dimensional Transference unfolds in my mind. Buffer logic is only necessary at intercity and larger scales to ensure the target coordinates aren't in the middle of a solid mass. Remove that component, drop this calculation, and with both of those gone I can factor down this other bit to be much simpler...
My opponent, blissfully unaware of my sudden onset of mid-combat spell tinkering by virtue of the fact that it hasn't meaningfully reduced my shot production, throws out another handful of fireballs before abruptly switching gears, wrenching the spike out of the floor and then launching that directly at me instead. I roll over the top of the chain as the leading spike sails by underneath me and then flip around to see that it has turned in midair like it was a boomerang instead and is now rocketing back towards me.
Shit. She can control it in flight?!
No, worse than that, glancing back towards my opponent reveals she's doing nothing whatsoever to feed more length of chain out in spite of the fact that there is very clearly more chain now than there was a second ago. So it can change trajectory whenever she wants and it's exactly as long as it needs to be.
I cartwheel over Harry's head in what might have been an impressive gymnastics display from somebody who couldn't cheat through it by flying and take the time to throw a wave or two worth of shots at the chain behind me before pulling up and away again. Naturally, my opponent just grabs the spike out of midair instead of allowing herself to get caught in her own chain, a flare of magic causing the bulk of it to catch fire. Most of it then promptly explodes, with only the ends that she's holding remaining intact and the chain reforming to a much more manageable length between them.
Great! As if I didn't have enough reasons already to avoid getting wrapped up in that thing.
If there's any good news to be had here, it's that my opponent's jacket definitely has a few more singe marks than it did just a minute ago, evidence that graze damage from the flood of bullets I continue to pump out is starting to pile up, that she's not dodging perfectly or consistently. That's not much, but it's something, proof that I can tag her with shots beyond the first down that she pretty much let me have. And if I keep the pressure up, eventually those glancing blows will turn into solid hits.
Another wide cone of fire sends me into an evasive dive and I take a moment to confirm that the chain spike hasn't been planted in the floor again before pulling up into an Immelmann turn with a trail of fireballs splashing harmlessly against the barrier after passing through places through I had been. Leveling off, I-
"Lava Mortar!"
-run headlong into a second Lava Mortar that detonates right on top of me and sends me crashing roughly into the ground.
I flip myself back onto my feet before the arena can announce me as having been downed again but based on the way my knees buckle in the moment between touching the ground and falling back to supporting myself purely through flight I can't imagine I have anybody fooled. Certainly doesn't help that I need a second to gather myself and in that time, I've stopped shooting entirely.
Harry looks me up and down once and then smiles again. She's won and she knows it and it's infuriating. I glare back and move to resume firing because like hell I'm not swinging on the way down but she crosses the arena in the space between heartbeats and her fist is buried in my gut before I even fully process the fact that she moved.
And she has the nerve to whisper in my ear as she's delivering the finishing blow, the air being driven from my lungs for a second time ensuring that I can't possibly respond. "You pushed me harder than I expected you to. Good work."
Is that supposed to make me feel better about this?!
I can feel the heat and force building up in her fist as I hang there uselessly, just waiting for the formality of whatever stupid name her knockout punch is going to turn out to have, utterly defeated and unable to move.
...
That's not quite true. Maybe I can't really walk or fly, but there is one thing I can do. One way to ensure that I lose on my own terms at the very least. The modified, compressed, and streamlined spell I tinkered up earlier is right there at the fore of my mind, waiting to be used.
Another heartbeat passes us both by.
"Pile Bunker!" Harry yells.
And I blink out of the way, teleporting a handful of inches into the space directly behind her.
My hand moves up on auto-pilot, ready to deliver a punishing wave of bullets from a range that she can't block or dodge from. But when I reach for my magic the only thing I find is a crippling sensation of exhaustion and nausea.
<Taylor?!>
...Maybe that close-range teleport wasn't actually quite ready for use...
I fall backwards.
[KO!]
Harry frowned deeply as the announcement rang out through the arena. With the match officially concluded, she cut the magic flowing into her spells and slowly turned to face her defeated opponent, lying supine on the ground.
"Stubborn right to the end, huh...?" she sighed, shaking her head, wincing at the small spike of pain she got in protest from her body. The adrenaline draining out of her system was no longer able to mask the working over she'd gotten from Taylor. In a way, someone who fought primarily with large masses of weak strikes was even more dangerous than someone who hit you honestly with a single big combo. Much easier to keep track of how many times you've been downed than it is to keep track of a steadily growing mountain of minor cuts and scrapes until it suddenly becomes all too much to deal with.
And she did all that without a Device, too. The professional fighter was ready to give her an honorary win just based on forcing her to go to Red Hawk when she'd planned on only using it for her Jacket in this match.
But...
She spent enough time in the elite pool of fighters at the top of the world rankings to know what the difference was between someone picking the right moment to reveal a new attack and someone dredging the bottom of the tank for a spell that was nowhere near ready to go.
Whatever move Taylor had used to evade the Pile Bunker and get behind her was immediately, screamingly obvious as something that hadn't been properly tested. There was simply no chance that the amount of wasted power leaking from that spell got past any kind of simulated test casting. Actually, given how obvious it was even to her own below-average magic senses, that level of leak probably didn't get past a second look at the spell math before the testing.
Casting it anyway was completely and inexcusably reckless, in other words. The kind of sour grapes maneuver that spoke to an infuriating lack of care for herself and for others. The fighter wouldn't be surprised to find out Taylor's motivation for doing so was something like 'well, you can't beat me if I beat myself first.'
Harry sighed loudly and added it to the list of things they needed to work on.
Assuming Taylor allowed herself the chance to work on those issues, anyway. That remained to be seen. The other girl was a terrible fit for the professional circuit in the capacity of an athlete. But even so, she had wanted to better herself. Still wanted to better herself, or else she would've walked or transferred away at any of the opportunities she'd had to do so before.
Places like this were meant for just that. Taylor didn't need to qualify for Intermiddle as a prerequisite of sparring in this arena, didn't need to join a league before being able to train with her peers. In fact, if the professional athlete allowed herself to be totally selfish, having a sparring partner that she was guaranteed to never encounter in a ranked match and therefore never had to hold tricks in reserve against was as valuable to her as the companionship and camaraderie of training together would be for the other girl.
But Taylor had to choose that for herself, whether it was a choice to take another step forward under her own power, or a choice to allow herself to be pushed forward. It would be disappointing to see her choose otherwise, but Harry would respect that choice as well.
And she'd make sure everyone else respected it too.
The world slowly swam back into focus around me.
A quick check of the clock tells me I've only been unconscious for a minute or two but my whole body aches with the kind of stiff numbness that comes from not having moved for hours.
Mariposa's head suddenly fills my field of vision as she looms over me with a deep frown tinged by both concern and relief.
<You and I are going to be having a very long discussion later about why we don't 'just wing it' with new spell ideas.>
I... completely deserve that.
My Device nods to herself, correctly interpreting my silence as a concession, and pulls back to allow me some room to try and lever myself upright. Unfortunately, my traitorous body makes its own feelings on things clear immediately, and I don't manage more than about six inches before the discomfort forces me to flop back down to the floor.
"I meant what I said earlier, you know."
Please be quiet, Harry.
Of course, since the other girl is not a mind reader and since I did not say that out loud, it's only natural that she does the exact opposite of what I wanted, coming over to sit down next to me. At least she maintained a polite distance.
"You put out a really impressive showing and had a great fight. Maybe you see it, maybe you don't yet, but you're going to be incredible with a few more months of training backing that talent."
Mmhmm. Sure thing. Can you get to the part where you ask me to join up so we can end this-
"We both know that you becoming a pro athlete is a terrible idea, so let's just skip right past that."
Hold up. What? No, you're supposed to use the fact that you beat me to try and steamroll right over my objections.
"You came here to train, right? That's why this gym is here. What you're training for doesn't matter. All that matters is that you show up and put the work in. So. I thought I'd leave you an offer. Well, two offers really."
I manage to turn enough to see her annoying grinning face.
"The first being, any time you want a fight, or to practice against a live opponent, or you want a training buddy, anything like that, I'll be there."
There's a very awkward pause as she waits for me to ask her what the second offer is and I refuse to indulge her.
Finally she sighs, showing me a half-second pout before the bright smile is back in place like it never left. "The other offer is a hand getting up."
The glare I offer her outstretched hand could melt through steel. I redouble my efforts to get myself up, now powered by pure spite and the determination to prove that I can walk out of here on my own.
I scrape the bottom of my thoroughly spent reserves for just enough magic to get myself airborne. Planting both feet on the ground will be easy once I-
<Taylor!>
My flight magic sputters slightly before dying completely and in a way that leaves me bracing myself to hit the ground hard after overbalancing, squeezing my eyes shut and preparing for the wave of pain that will follow eating arena floor.
But the pain never comes. I dare to crack one eye open for just long enough to see that Harry Tribeca took it upon herself to catch me instead before squeezing that eye shut again in silent protest.
Mariposa sighs directly into my brain, her voice laced with fond exasperation. <Yeah, it's going to be a few minutes for you. Stop pushing yourself.>
"Please let go." I ask of the fuchsia-haired girl in a dangerously polite tone of voice. Half of me expects her to drop me back on the floor and the other half expects her to refuse.
Both are surprised when she instead says "Okay."
I can feel her slowly releasing her grip, giving me the time to get both feet on the ground and taking weight. When she finishes letting me go I can at least claim the dignity of standing completely unassisted, even if she's standing way too close by, ready to catch me again if I fall over on the first three steps out of here.
But I don't fall over, managing to get myself out of the arena and onto a very comfortable couch set up in the adjoining tunnel next to the arena, whereupon I finally get room to breathe in back.
Miss President walks in a few seconds later from the other direction, a sealed soda can in her hand. She smiles at me, offering up the can. "Here. It's important to rehydrate after an exhausting match."
I go to refuse the can out of spite but I can feel the warning glare my Device is giving me and so I decide to give in instead.
"Power Water." I read aloud, popping the can open which produces a delightful fizz. This is pretty much just soda water, isn't it?
<Soda water and electrolytes.>
Ah. It's flavorless Gatorade.
I drink it anyway. Despite having no flavor it feels like manna from heaven against my incredibly parched throat that I had been ignoring until just that moment.
...Damn it. "Thank you," I offer sincerely.
"Think nothing of it." Viktoria responds earnestly.
Nobody said anything else.
Several minutes passed in silence before I was rested enough to get myself out of this gym. A hundred conflicting emotions pass through my head as I prepare to jump back to Nanoha's house. Anger, sadness, and plenty of unidentifiable things too. There are so many things I could say, things I want to say, but when I go to speak the only thing that comes out is...
"I'll be back soon."
And I know for a fact that I mean that.
Next On Fluttering Wings...
A raven-haired girl materializes in a very well-appointed kitchen, alone save for the small fairy floating patiently at her shoulder.
Nobody else is nearby, but that doesn't seem to bother the girl at all as she carefully makes her way over to the refrigerator in search of a snack to cut down her growing hunger.
Opening the fridge reveals a lot of perishable ingredients and a selection of drinks. However, the only thing ready to eat is somebody's breakfast leftovers, an egg-and-rice creation with a vegetable hash in a resealable glass container.
There's a note stuck to the top of the container. It reads,
'Taylor -
There is always a place for you at the table. Please don't be afraid to take it.
- Nanoha.'
The girl lets out a sigh as though she'd just been given terrible news.
A moment passes before she speaks out loud. "Well, I might as well. It does have my name on it."
So decided, Taylor carefully removes the note from the container and the container from the fridge, bringing the breakfast she had skipped out on before over to the microwave oven for reheating.
Episode 9: New Beginnings!
Stardust Falcon
Legendary Creature - Bird Wizard
- Location
- The Infinite Sorrow
Sure hope this fight scene turned out okay since it took so much of the chapter to get through. If it didn't... welp.
There were some concerns earlier that this felt fillery and that's because it kind of is, but it serves to setup Taylor's continued growth and training. Having established that, next chapter will be far more A-plot than this one was.
Fun fact! I wrote and posted this entire thing from my phone! The next couple chapters will likely also be written and posted entirely from the phone! Hahaha D:
Happy end of year celebrations everyone. Expect another cooking sidestory at some point, but maybe not a holiday themed one.
There were some concerns earlier that this felt fillery and that's because it kind of is, but it serves to setup Taylor's continued growth and training. Having established that, next chapter will be far more A-plot than this one was.
Fun fact! I wrote and posted this entire thing from my phone! The next couple chapters will likely also be written and posted entirely from the phone! Hahaha D:
Happy end of year celebrations everyone. Expect another cooking sidestory at some point, but maybe not a holiday themed one.
- Location
- The States
For being written on your phone, the formatting, spelling, etc are impeccable. And well done on characterizing Taylor's inherent "Screw you, I can do this" stubborness.
wtdtd
slow thinker, with crippling abundance of time
- Location
- The Netherlands
No. i'm done.
I'm sorry, but i'm dropping this.
It seemed like it had promise for the first 3 chapters but after that it steadily went down the gutter, and my patience has run out.
None of the characterization is believable, especially of the main character.
And notice there that i said main character, not Taylor Hebert, because this is not her. This is generic traumatized and bullied girl number 143.
I'm sorry, but i'm dropping this.
It seemed like it had promise for the first 3 chapters but after that it steadily went down the gutter, and my patience has run out.
None of the characterization is believable, especially of the main character.
And notice there that i said main character, not Taylor Hebert, because this is not her. This is generic traumatized and bullied girl number 143.
- Location
- West Michigan
Harry Tribeca: Not as much of an idiot as she looks. This is a perfect read on Taylor's fighting style.
...What do you think early-canon Taylor is?
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
No wonder Nanoha fits so well in Midchilda. It's a planet of Warrior therapists that can comprehend a person's motivations and drives by brawling with them.
He was probably expecting more rampant escalation and Skitter-style 'crazy and it works'. Of course both of those require that Taylor A: has the Shard embedded in her brain (which she doesn't have here) and B: the various life experiences post-locker and throughout her cape life (which she doesn't have here either).
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- Location
- The States
This, 100% this. wtdtd, this is a Taylor from early canon who lost everything she had, even if she has gained sone great stuff too. (Nanoha is an awesome mom!) Her being unsure of herself is natural. But like I said before, she still has her innate core of steel.
- Location
- California
Am I the only person who finds myself severely disliking Harry? Like not so much the character or from a meta perspective, but I put myself in Taylor's shoes and I find myself resenting the fact she exists. The pushiness, incessant cheer as she badgers Taylor into doing things reminds me far too much of Emma. I don't really want Taylor to make friends with this person. Somebody actually sportive rather than a person who decides she knows best what Taylor needs after seeing her once, speaking to her for fifteen minutes, and sparing with her, would be infinitely better and more tolerable. Whether she was right or not is immaterial to how arrogant it shows her to be.
The fact that Taylor was willing to hurt herself to keep Harry from winning says as much about how Harry affected Taylor as it does about Taylor itself, and what it says is the same in both cases, nothing good. She's not somebody I want to spend time with, or particularly want to see Taylor spend time with.
Edit: I should add that I thought the chapter was great, anything that gets me this pissed off at or on behalf of a character is doing something right. The fight was also well done, it gave the feeling of Taylor not being totally worthless while still showing that she was outclassed by the more experienced fighter. Excellent balance there.
The fact that Taylor was willing to hurt herself to keep Harry from winning says as much about how Harry affected Taylor as it does about Taylor itself, and what it says is the same in both cases, nothing good. She's not somebody I want to spend time with, or particularly want to see Taylor spend time with.
Edit: I should add that I thought the chapter was great, anything that gets me this pissed off at or on behalf of a character is doing something right. The fight was also well done, it gave the feeling of Taylor not being totally worthless while still showing that she was outclassed by the more experienced fighter. Excellent balance there.
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