I didn't expect her to take me to a café.
I thought we'd go to some abandoned building, a rooftop, a glowing platform floating in the void—anything that screamed "secret magical business."
But no.
We ended up in a cute little coffee shop near the arcade, the kind with latte art and pink chairs and an aggressive number of plush cats on the walls.
She ordered a hot chocolate.
I ordered water, because I wasn't sure if my stomach could handle anything else.
Then she looked at me and laughed.
"You really thought I'd come flying down from the sky again?"
My face flushed. "You did it before!"
She giggled behind her cup. "Once. For dramatic effect."
A deep voice to my right added, "Miyu, it's not nice to mock him. He showed up. That's worth some respect."
I blinked.
I hadn't even noticed the man sit down.
Tall. Tan coat. Black gloves. Glasses. Mid-thirties, maybe. The kind of guy who looked like a tired bureaucrat in a spy movie.
Which, apparently, wasn't far from the truth.
"Yuuta," Miyu said, lowering her drink. "This is Mr. Hoshino. He works for the Government Bureau of Civil-Magical Relations."
I stared. "That's… a real thing?"
"Unfortunately," Hoshino said dryly. "We regulate contact and cooperation between magical girls and the general public."
"Oh."
He gave a small nod. "And in this case, we're here because your name showed up on an energy resonance report flagged as unusually high and unstable."
My stomach tightened. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"No one said you did." He turned to Miyu. "You want to handle the rest?"
Miyu set down her cup, adjusted the oversized hoodie that practically swallowed her, and gave me a small, sharp smile.
"Let's do this properly," she said, tapping the table. "Name: Miyu Kurusu. Codename: White One. Specialization: illusions and containment. Magical classification: Type-7. Emotion source: tactile affection. Specifically..."
She pointed to the top of her head.
"I charge best when people pet me."
I stared.
Then stared harder.
Miyu tilted her head. "You may ask one question. Go."
"...Are you serious?"
"Yes. That was your question."
I sputtered. "Wait, no—!"
"Too late," she said with a grin.
I slumped in my chair.
"Why are magical girls like this?"
Hoshino coughed.
"We ask ourselves that every day."
After a few more sips of chocolate, Miyu got serious.
"Well, technically," she said, "your magical signature should've been reported to the Bureau by whoever discovered you first."
I raised an eyebrow. "Discovered me?"
"You're a source of emotional amplification—what we call a Battery. High output, natural resonance, and no anchor license. That makes you both valuable and... unstable."
"Great. I'm a walking hazard."
"A cute one," she added helpfully.
"Please don't."
"You're lucky I'm not like Rika. She'd have kissed you by now."
"Stop talking."
She giggled again.
Then her tone shifted.
"Look. The point is, someone—Rika or Kana or both—should've reported you."
"They didn't?"
"No. That's why I came. I noticed the spike. I wanted to see for myself."
I frowned. "Kana said the Association would use me as a lab rat."
Hoshino's voice cut in immediately. "We would never do that."
He sounded so firm, so grounded, that I actually believed him.
Miyu, however, just sipped her drink.
"Kana's always had trust issues," she murmured. "Especially when it comes to sharing."
"Sharing?"
Miyu's eyes sparkled. "You. She found a high-grade Battery and kept him for herself. Not maliciously. Just... emotionally territorial."
"That's not—she's not—"
"You don't need to defend her," Miyu said. "I like Kana. She's strong. Smart. But she doesn't play well with others. And Rika…"
"Yeah?"
"Rika's a gremlin."
"Yeah."
We sat in silence for a moment.
The café around us was quiet. Soft piano music. The hum of a coffee machine. Normal life.
And me, sitting between a government agent and a magical loli-genius who powered up via head pats.
My life was spiraling into absurdity.
Then Miyu looked at me again.
"Do you want to register?"
I blinked. "What?"
"With the Bureau. As an official Battery."
Hoshino leaned forward. "It would mean certain protections. You wouldn't be claimed or used without oversight. You'd have a handler. A schedule. A say in how your energy is distributed."
"And if I say no?"
"Then you stay unregistered. Vulnerable. A free-for-all."
Hoshino reached into his coat and pulled out a folder.
A real, physical folder.
Not glowing parchment. Not a hologram. Just a manila file with a clip.
He slid it across the table toward me.
"What's this?"
"Your potential registration contract."
I blinked. "Wait, now?"
"You said you'd think about it. I assumed you'd want all the information."
I opened it.
And nearly passed out.
The first line read:
Annual Compensation: ¥12,000,000.
I had to double-check the zeros.
"...This can't be real."
"It is," Hoshino said flatly. "You're what we call a Tier-3 Amplifier. That level of output is rare. If you agree to register and follow basic protocol, the government compensates you accordingly."
"I'm seventeen!"
"It'll be taxed."
"Oh no," I muttered. "My final weakness."
Miyu leaned in. "You can also expense snacks."
"I accept."
"You didn't read the rest of the contract."
"Snacks," I said again, dazed. "With government money."
I signed the paper without a second thought.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice that sounded a lot like Kana was screaming "IDIOT!", but it was drowned out by the sound of twelve million yen echoing in my skull.
Hoshino nodded, tucked the folder away, and muttered something about forwarding it to Legal.
I leaned back in my seat, slightly dizzy.
"So… now what?"
"Well," Hoshino said, adjusting his glasses, "now we handle the issue of your unauthorized exposure."
"You mean how I was discovered by two magical girls who didn't tell anyone?"
"Exactly."
He paused. "They should be punished."
My brain froze. "Wait, what?"
"They broke protocol," he continued calmly. "Put a civilian at risk. Claimed an unregistered Battery without clearance. Those are serious offenses."
I opened my mouth to speak, but Miyu raised a hand.
"Not yet."
Hoshino turned to her. "Kurusu-san—"
"Later," she said gently. "Let them enjoy the illusion a little longer."
Her eyes flicked toward me.
"There's no need to start a fight now. Yuuta's registered. That's what matters. As for Rika and Kana…"
She sipped her drink, smiled faintly.
"We'll deal with them. Eventually."
The way she said it made my spine tingle.
I wasn't sure if I felt sorry for them or not.
We chatted for a bit longer.
Miyu mostly asked about school life. Hoshino asked if I had any allergies. I still wasn't sure if I was dreaming.
Then, between sips of water, something struck me.
"Hey," I said, turning to Miyu. "You're a magical girl, right?"
She tilted her head. "In the technical sense, yes."
"Then… how come I've never seen you on TV? There are broadcasts all the time—Rika's fights, Kana's patrol footage, all that."
Miyu blinked. Then she smiled.
A slow, subtle, almost mischievous smile.
"I don't usually fight monsters," she said.
"Oh."
"I handle… other responsibilities."
That smile again.
Like she knew things no one else should know.
I glanced at Hoshino.
"She's telling the truth," he said. "Kurusu operates under direct jurisdiction. Her job involves magical containment, intelligence, and enforcement."
"Enforcement?"
Miyu tapped her cup. "I make sure other magical girls don't break the rules."
"And when they do?"
She smiled wider.
"They learn not to do it again."
I stared at her for a long second.
Then said the only thing that made sense.
"...I'm scared of you."
"Good," she replied.