(x) Irregular Magic

chapter 2 - isn't five a happy number?

"Heather Zhang was found in front of the Life Sciences building at Cavmoire School. Trained medi-mages have verified her death as suicide. The authorities do not suspect foul play. Cavmoire School, established in 790 M.E., is the only school in the district of Tarajen for children without magic—"

The screen abruptly shut off as Mattie came into the room.

"I think I just saw your school, sis," Tara Somerhall said innocently. "Er, why are you barefoot?"

Mattie didn't say anything to Tara, not even about being in her room when she wasn't. Instead, she walked past into her closet. Briskly, she pulled off her school clothes and changed into a more comfortable gray top and black jeans. She dumped her school bag onto her chair and paused briefly at the door. "I'm going out for a bit."

Tara's eyes were glued to her tablet. "Where are you going?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll be back before dinner."

"Fine, then."

"Do your homework."

"Fine, mom," Tara retorted without looking.

Mattie slipped out the back and walked back onto the main road. A moment later, Ren stepped into view, having hidden in the shadows of the houses lining the street of Yellow Flower Quarter. He only lived a couple blocks away, but Mattie could tell he hadn't gone back. He was still wearing his school uniform. The way his shoulders filled the sleek navy material usually made her smile but today it just made his back look lonely.

"Let's go," she murmured to him through tight lips. She took Ren's hand. It felt cold even though it was quite temperate outside.

"Mattie . . . "

"Hm?" she replied, absentmindedly.

"Heather won't be the only one, you know. Not now. It's only the start."

Mattie swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as a desert. "Yeah, I know." They headed towards the tele-stop at the end of the street, their steps unnaturally loud in the quiet neighborhood. Mattie's white sneaks and Ren's loafers tapped the concrete of the sidewalk, alternating as if synchronized. Her hammering heart—it felt like it had never really returned to its regular beat since finding Heather sprawled in front of Jonathon Mayhew—seemed to slow with the regular movement.

"It isn't such a far-out idea," Ren voiced. "If I'm honest . . . "

She gripped his hand a tad tighter. In response, Ren tightened his hand.

"I've thought the same things, Mattie. 'Why us? Why am I a normie? Why can everyone walk all over me? Would it make a difference if I was dead? Would anyone really care?'" Ren exhaled sharply. "I never acted on it. There were lots of times when I wanted to, but—I don't know—I guess I'm just a coward."

Mattie stopped her steps and looked Ren straight in the eyes. "Don't say that," she told him fiercely.

Her free hand was clenched so tightly she could feel her nail digging into her palm.

"There's nothing brave about what Heather did. Ren, I know you've had those thoughts. I know you've had those thought because I've had those thoughts. Because we've all had those thoughts, okay? I'm willing to bet there isn't a normie in the world who hasn't thought that. But you know what, though? Nothing—not one damn thing—will change by giving up. Don't call yourself a coward. Those stupid mages in Karling—they're the cowards. They ganged up on some helpless family with their magic. They knew what they would do. They knew the consequences."

Ren exhaled again, this time softly, shakily. His shoulders sagged. Mattie pulled him to a bench and sat him down. He leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. Knowing something was very, very wrong with him, Mattie placed her hand on his, waiting.

His voice was cracked and fragile, glass. "What do we do, Mattie? This happened years ago, at my old school. It happens in every no-magic school in the world."

She blinked. In the entire time she had known Ren, she had never heard him speak about his home in Nipon. Knowing he would eventually open up, Mattie had kept silent about it, rather than badger him like the other kids had.

He kept going. "There was an . . . incident in Harajuku—in Nipon. Everyone knew who it was—it was those majo bastards . . . mages. There was a gang in the neighborhood. They took a girl from the no-magic school I went to. There—" Ren trembled and sweat poured from his temple. His eyes weren't looking at Mattie, but through her. His expression told her he was separated from her by both place and time. He was a thousand miles away, in the district of Nipon, years ago.

"The things they did to her . . .  With magic, they—" Mattie, breathless and horrified, squeezed Ren's hand. "It's disgusting. Awful. Gut-wrenching. The police found her body in the gutters, rotting away. They ran a reverse-dispel on her to find out what magic had been used. Magic leaves traces, so they traced it back to the gang. Just like in Karling."

"Oh, Ren . . . " No wonder the Karling incident had been so hard on him.

"The girls at the school were scared out of their minds, Mattie. They had been waiting for the police to catch the damned mages, but when they did... Sixteen months." Ren spat on the ground. "Sixteen ragging months. Can you even believe it? I guess that's a harder sentence than those Karling mages got, but . . .  A year—just twelve months—went by, and they got paroled for good behavior."

Mattie gasped. "Wh—what?"

"Yeah, it makes you sick, right? My sister threw up when she found out."

"Your sister? I didn't know you had a sis . . . " Mattie stopped mid-sentence, horror filling her. The picture of the smiling girl in Ren's flat, the one she had assumed was his mother, could it be . . .?

Ren turned away from her but not before she saw those solemn brown eyes fill with tears. "Miyuki was friends with the girl they took, though she was younger. Like you and Heather. Na . . .  the girl, she was two years than Miyuki. That made it all the more worse. Miyuki felt responsible. But more than that, they were terrified of becoming victims like her. She and a couple others began to plan something."

Mattie had a sickening feeling she knew what Miyuki had planned. She wasn't sure what to ask. Or how to ask it.

"The incident was filed with the police department as the Okinawa Five." Ren pulled his hand away from hers and clenched it tightly. Abruptly he stood up and drove his fist into the solid bark of a nearby tree. He didn't seem to notice this drew blood. Or maybe he did but just didn't care.

Mattie couldn't blame him. Okinawa Five—five girls dead because of some magicals. What if the situation at Cavmoire turned into that? Five girls. She couldn't bear to think of five faces she would no longer see and talk to.

Ren had calmed down some, though he still didn't look at her. He talked into the tree, his voice tight and gruff. "Mattie, don't misunderstand. I told you the file name because I want you to realize something. My school was in the middle of nowhere. We all had to take a train to get to the station, and then hike several hours because there was no tele-stop nearby. It's a different set-up than Cavmoire. When I saw the title 'Okinawa Five,' I couldn't believe it." He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and sniffled. "Because the number of girls at my school was five hundred. Five hundred, eighty-nine."

Five hundred, eighty-nine.

5-8-9

"Wait, you're not saying that..." Mattie stared into Ren's back. Had it always seemed so cold and alone?

"All five hundred and eighty girls committed suicide, Mattie. And the government covered it up."