Pechka
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During her work as a magical girl, she’d been spotted a few times. The rule of thumb was to keep hidden and act in secret, but if a very young child—someone who wouldn’t see them as an oddity—happened to catch a glimpse, there was an unspoken understanding that there was nothing much to be done about it, though it was frowned upon.
Summer was at its peak. In the early afternoon at the park, the asphalt was practically softening in the heat. Cicadas hummed hoarsely, and mothers buzzed merrily with the latest gossip.
A girl of about kindergarten age, possibly waiting for her mother, was squatting in the shade, out of the harsh sunlight. In her right hand, she held a thin white string connected to a floating red balloon with a drugstore logo imprinted on it. The light filtering through the trees produced a mottled pattern on the rubber as it bobbed lazily in the air.
Suddenly, the wind picked up. The girl covered her eyes with her right hand—the one holding her balloon. The gust jerked the string from her grip, and with an “Oh!” she looked up to see her prize rising straight into the blue sky. The girl’s look of surprise disappeared, replaced by welling tears.
Then, as if from nowhere, a magical girl dashed forward, leaped high into the air, and snatched the lost balloon. She handed it to the little girl with a smile and a “Here you go.” The magical girl would have been more careful had she been helping an adult, but she figured it was fine to give a child an extra smile.
“Thank you!” the child shouted excitedly, a big smile on her face. “Miss…you’re so pretty.” She was entranced.
The magical girl, Pechka, responded with a sloppy grin and then quickly hid herself to make sure none of the mothers nearby spotted her. A magical girl’s outfit stuck out like a sore thumb, making it especially harrowing to work while the sun was up. “Swift and nimble” was the creed in daytime.