This Magical Girl Isn't A Hero

4. This Squirrel? A Monster!

1

I awoke to birds chirping.

It was lovely. Beautiful. Enchanting. Like something straight out of a Hisney movie.

I couldn't help but smile.

"Nice birds. Good birds."

Then, another bird joined in. A male one this time. It cawed deeply, forming a rhythmic routine.

I rolled over, burying my head under a mountain of plump pillows. "Hahaha. Real funny, guys, but—"

Even more male birds started whistling. They were, then, accompanied by echoing hoots and honking squeals.

It was no longer a song. It was turning into a wake up call.

I growled, grinding my teeth, screwing my eyes shut.

Something that sounded like an out-of-tune flute. A trombone stuffed with rocks and bricks. An opera singer gargling shards of glass—

I sat up in bed, the silk blankets sliding down. There were no curtains covering the window. This allowed sunlight to illuminate the pile of clothes laying on the floor (not mine) and the moonlight bedside table and the plush handle of my—

"THAT'S IT!"

I grabbed it. My wand sprung to life, humming with power. The feeling banished the last vestiges of sleep.

"IF YOU WON'T LET ME SLEEP, THEN—"

Somewhere, a cannon fired.

Or, rather, a cannon exploded.

I found myself hitting the ceiling. I then found myself bouncing off the ceiling. As I was falling, another cannon must have exploded, because I once again hit the ceiling and bounced right off of it.

It didn't really hurt.

No, wait. Yeah. It definitely hurt.

Thankfully, it was the kind of pain that is mercifully over quickly and replaced by a thick, numbing molasses.

—

It doesn't hurt that magical girls don't feel pain.

Pain tends to significantly lower one's focus and attention on the battlefield, and not paying attention when fighting a witch often means certain cursage.

—

After dropping to the floor, everything fell silent.

The birds had stopped chirping, cawing, hooting, squealing, shrieking, wheezing, and gargling. They'd been scared off the tree branch by... whatever the heck just happened.

Alarmed shouts echoed all over the castle. Armor clanged and donged. Knights asked for orders. A few screamed about how a witch had gotten past the magical barrier.

I didn't think that was it.

I mean, I couldn't really think, not when my head felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton candy.

...

When feeling returned, I got up.

I hesitantly raised a finger to my forehead.

"ROMANIA'S SICKLE," I screamed as soon as pain followed its older and far more gentle brother.

A knot had already formed beneath the skin. It throbbed. And burned. Burned like a witch under an Investigator's magi-frying glass.

The guest room wasn't big, but it wasn't that small, either. It featured all of the usual furnishings of a room reserved for special guests.

My bed took up the most space. A small table stood next to it, glowing faintly.