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  The owl rubbed around his eyes with one wingtip as though cleaning a pair of spectacles. "I'll save a full discussion of magical theory for later, but I was empowered as the guardian of a... cast-off artifact from the divine forge. I believe the Wand was intended as a joke or a way of testing unusual powers. I was offered the gift of intelligence in return for accepting a role of working with its owner, and I accepted rather than spend my life eating raw mice. As for changing back, of course you can. You need only to learn the appropriate transformation phrases. Assuming, of course, that you don't immediately reject your bond to the Wand."

  Terry held the berry-themed magic wand in both hands, shivering through his fur. "I could throw this thing away, still?"

  "If you act quickly, yes. Before it becomes nearly impossible to steal or lose."

  The Special Police man tapped one foot while a regular cop ran up with a pile of towels. "Can we save whatever drama you're going through for later, miss? The Martian Lives Matter people are looting downtown again."

  Terry looked down at his ridiculous green blouse/skirt thing, his extended body, and the magic wand responsible for both. He sighed.

  * * *

  He'd gathered Mako and Himura, and Ray showed up after he got done killing some kind of apocalypse seraph rising from the sea. They all grabbed a booth at their favorite restaurant, where Terry paid for a round of burgers and root beer. He sat there with no fur and two legs. His owl companion was busy falling in love with Mako.

  Mako looked over from feeding french fries to the owl. "Congratulations, Terry! I heard you had some kind of adventure at last. You've got a scary masked nemesis, even."

  "Yeah, and he got away. Of course." Terry was starved; his appetite was apparently sized for his larger form.

  Ray said, "I was too busy to hear the details. What kind of powers did you get?"

  Blushing over his food, Terry muttered, "Magical girl."

  Ray snorted. "Better than nothing."

  Terry said, "Yeah. So. I finally belong."

  "Don't say that," said Mako. "You were always our friend. Isn't that so, everyone?"

  Himura joined in with the reassurance, but he said, "You're right, though, Terry. You were always going to be jealous."

  Terry hadn't done much to earn this fate, but he'd done something. He put down his food and stood. "I admit it. I don't want to learn the lesson that it's okay to be ordinary. Even if it's ridiculous, I'd rather be out there with you guys, doing cool stuff."

  Mako smiled. "I like that attitude. Will you show us the whole transformation sequence and your powers?"

  Terry stepped away from the table. "Sure. Stand back." He gestured toward the wand, making it float over to his hand, and waved it with such enthusiasm that he spun around and sparkled even before the magic fully activated. "Power of Mephit, I call upon you! Stripes of Justice!" The whirlwind raised him up and he began changing. He'd only started training with his companion and his new powers, but he'd already decided: they were totally worth it.

  * * *

  Terry was practicing tennis today, just in case. He played against 10N35, the school's outdated tennis android, after class. Kayda perched on the fence around the court and hooted encouragingly.

  The robot shot two volleys at once at Terry, who jumped and tried to whack both back across the net. He got one pretty well but the other pinged off the edge of his racket and went foul.

  "Why are you bothering with that bucket of bolts?" asked Kayda.

  "Did you see how the Noh Love gang played? If I'm not going to be able to apply dragon magic or something to my game, I basically need to master playing against cheaters."

  "Indeed!" boomed a voice from the heavens. A tiny cloud descended, bearing a cross-legged figure who looked like a genie or something. He wore flowing robes, short shorts, permanently angry eyebrows, and a sweatband. A cloud of tennis balls orbited him. "I am Mi-Ken-Ro the God of Tennis, and I have seen your enemies' transgressions against good sportsmanship."

  Terry stood there blinking, then turned off the robot. "You know, a few days ago I would have killed to meet you. Right now, I'm a little overwhelmed."

  "Be at peace," said Mi-Ken-Ro, and pointed at his chest. "May the advantage be in."

  Terry had to think about tennis terminology for a moment. "Oh, I get it."

  Mi-Ken-Ro sighed. Kayda said, "Sorry, Your Radiance. Terry here has just been caught up in an unrelated sort of magic."

  Terry nodded. "Yeah. So if you're here to offer me some kind of Legendary Racket of the Wicked Spin, it's a little redundant." Terry looked down at the concrete court. "There must be other schools nearby where somebody is pining for magic of their own. Try looking for them to be your hero."

  The god said, "That's just it. The artifact you imagine is really the Racket of the Serene Twins of Venus, and the Noh Love Gang has discovered its location."

  "Okay, but again, I have a whole new set of powers to figure out and I'm sure someone else can handle your problem."

  The orbiting orbs burst into flame. "I care not for your second-rate powers! If the Racket falls into their hands, the fate of the world is at stake!"

  "While we're on the subject," said Terry, "How exactly does being good at tennis allow you to take over the court system?"

  "The two are linked by the power of competition. I tell you, young Terry, that your enemies will surely seek you out. Only returning the Racket to its divine case can truly protect you and your friends from this volley of evil."

  Terry winced. He didn't care about this new quest, but the gang really had been crazy enough that it might endanger his friends. He turned to Kayda and said, "Might as well listen, right?" The owl shrugged.

  Mi-Ken-Ro spun a tale of a divine craftsman forging the Racket in the dawn of time, from a fallen star, to inspire the game sometime thousands of years ago. Supposedly, tennis had existed in ancient China and was once considered the sport of dragons. The Chinese emperor Shi Huangdi had buried a mighty army of terra-cotta tennis golems in case they might ever need to be activated again.

  Terry finally interrupted: "I need to consult with my spirit guide. Can you leave us for a minute?"

  Mi-Ken-Ro vanished in a puff of yellowish fuzz. "Whew," said Terry. "Kayda, I don't know enough about this magical girl thing to know if I'm doing it right. Should we tell him to buzz off, or accept his quest?"

  Kayda flew down to land on the court's net. "Your instincts are probably right. We have no obligation to this god, but he is a god and his nonsense is wrapped up in the business of your current nemesis. Best to take on the quest and then see if someone else wants to take it over for the sake of gaining powers of their own."

  Terry nodded, then called for the god. Mi-Ken-Ro reappeared. Terry startled at how close he was. "Right. Well, I've decided to accept your quest."

  Mi-Ken-Ro said, "Excellent! As a token of my favor, take this headband." He removed the sweaty thing from his forehead and handed it over. As soon as Terry reluctantly took the thing, the god vanished, with the words, "Seek the Racket where one may best serve for doubles."

  Terry asked his owl, "Are gods required to be cryptic?"

  "It's part of the job description."

  "You know that from being involved with this 'artifacts from the divine forge' business?"

  Kayda shrugged. "No, I'm afraid I didn't know much at the time; I'd just become intelligent. But I did meet one or two other gods, and they were... difficult. You know, Terry, if you're fated to get into more tennis games, you really should practice in your transformed shape."

  "You're probably right." They hadn't yet had a chance to go over the exact nature of his powers in much detail, but Kayda had started explaining that Terry's new shape had extra strength and speed and so on. Terry patted his pockets to look for the wand, and panicked for a moment when he couldn't find it.

  The owl said, "It's always with you in spirit. Just... grab it."

  Terry thought back to the dramatic posing he'd done to make the
Wand of Mephit work before. He nodded. Then he made sure there was some clear space around him, and whipped his left hand through the air as though to brandish the wand. Suddenly it was there in his hand. "Stripes of Justice!" he called out, and transformed.

  Much sparkling and spinning later, he landed lightly on four white-furred paws. "This still feels really weird," he said, practicing picking one hindfoot off the ground and then one forefoot. Not to mention his higher voice, the snout between his eyes, and the sight of his tight blouse.

  "Practice will help you get used to it, I assume."

  "Hey, where did my racket go — hmm?" Terry turned in a circle and discovered that the Wand of Mephit was now a tennis racket entwined with vines and strawberry designs. "Convenient. I hope it's not stuck this way; I don't really want to have everything I do revolve around sports now."

  While Terry pranced around the court and reactivated the ball-shooting robot, Kayda critiqued his moves. "If I understand correctly, your wand is empathic. You should be able to turn it into whatever weapon you need at the moment. As for this new quest, does this mean you're eager to be a magical girl instead of a sports star?"

  Terry hopped back and forth and swatted serves from 10N35. A ball whacked him on his fluffy tail and made him wince. "It wasn't quite what I had in mind, but like I said, I'll take it. What sort of adventures am I supposed to be having, anyway?"

  "Doing battles with monsters, maybe demons or aliens."

  That sounded scary, but fun. "Let's find a way to practice for that. Seems like a higher priority." There'd been reports of a demon running around in the NeoHarajuku District last week, but Terry hadn't paid it much attention. Fighting bad guys had been something that only the cool people could do, after all. Terry bounced around on the court and punched and kicked the air, saying, "Yeah. Let's hit the gym and learn some real fighting skills!"

  Before Kayda could answer, a gaggle of girls in aprons and poofy white hats spotted Terry and whooped, heading right for him. "Hey, a new student! Come on, quick!"

  Terry twitched his tail, which still felt like it was a mile behind him. "Is anybody in danger?"

  "Our salad master is out sick! Come on; we need you to fill in." Two gals began dragging Terry along by the arms.

  "Um, have you noticed I'm part skunk?"

  "So what?" Unfazed, his fellow students giggled and pulled him into the school's Battle Kitchen. Terry had watched a few matches here from the bleachers, but had never before been under the hot lights that shined down the twin purple and yellow kitchen setups where Bakagaijin students did culinary battle with rival schools. Before Terry knew it he'd been given a frilly white apron and a chef hat and had been coaxed into washing his hands and forepaws. The cooking team was already busy organizing pots and pans and vegetables. The purple side was still empty but spectators had started to gather. Terry felt them staring, and blushed.

  "Hold on!" said Terry. "What do you want from me? Just to join in and help you make salads?"

  A girl named Angelique Tanaka was on the team, tying her long blue hair back and looking Terry over in a way that made him unconfortable. "I don't know who you are, new gal, but we've got a very serious match starting any minute and with Minuette the Endive Queen missing, you're drafted. Just follow our lead and don't screw up."

  "I might not be the ideal choice for this," he said. With his long lower body in the way, he kept bumping into the countertops and cooks had to hop over him or dodge his waving tail. "I'd at least need a hairnet."

  Angelique snapped her fingers. "Hairnet for the new salad chef!" Someone grabbed an extra-large mesh thing and slid it onto Terry's tail, startling him enough that the big fluffy thing lifted alarmingly. He whirled around and said, "Do not sneak up on me from behind!"

  He sighed; surely he was going to need that aspect of his powers at some point. He brushed his tail back down.

  The rival cooking team arrived. There were seven cooks for Bakagaijin counting himself, but the newcomers were just five. They called attention to this by leaping into the room one at a time, introducing themselves as the Green Cook! The Yellow Cook! The...

  "Oh dear Athena," said Kayda, covering his eyes with one wing. "It's one of those color-coordinated super teams."

  Terry spoke to him, aware that to everyone else's ears he was just chirping and squeaking. "When it rains, it pours. So I have to join the girls' cooking team while I'm supposed to be defending the honor of tennis and probably saving Japan from demons."

  "You don't have to," said the owl.

  Terry looked out at the audience. Ray and Mako were there, waving for attention. Terry waved back with one forepaw, then said to Kayda, "It'll be fun. We do need to get to the magical girl training tonight, though."

  "I get the sense," said his companion, "that coping with unusual interruptions is going to be a key part of that training. But yes, very well; let's practice your skills in this sort of arena and see how it goes."

  Summoning strawberries and leaves was actually pretty useful for a substitute salad-maker, it turned out. When the rival team started trying ninjitsu dirty tricks to sabotage his side's food, and a brawl broke out, Terry took it in stride and considered it a chance to learn.

  He looked ridiculous even beyond being a skunk-girl with too many paws, but there was still a big grin on his muzzle.

  Lifepod

  Neil woke up with sticky hands and a headache. He focused his eyes enough to see the dried blood on his fingers and feel more of it clotted in his hair. The room was nearly upside-down. Metal, with flashing lights that made his skull throb.

  The lifepod!

  He cursed, sat up, and blacked out for a moment. He was on the ceiling of a lifepod from the Titan, and it was bobbing on the waves of an alien sea.

  He'd been briefed on emergency procedures, but had assumed that his role in an emergency would be to stay out of the way. When it came to spaceflight, there wasn't much distance between problems the bridge crew could handle, and those that'd kill everyone. As a junior engineer on a thousand-man ship he'd never expected to survive a disaster and end up... wherever this was.

  Dimly, he recalled his short period of space-specific training. He muttered, "What's the first thing that could kill me?"

  He poked at his head and hissed in pain, but there was no bright new blood on his fingers. All his limbs were where they ought to be, though he'd been in his pajamas when the alarm sounded and they were a singed, torn mess now. So, he was hurt and maybe he had a concussion, but he wasn't bleeding to death. Neil climbed up to one knee and managed to focus his eyes on the lifepod's computer screen. It said, upside-down:

  "Hull Integrity: OK. Life Support: Caution. Production Facility: Caution. Communications: 1 Signal."

  Contact! Neil lunged toward the screen to poke the comms button, though it was hardly top priority. Then his heart sank. The lifepod had a signal only from the Titan's emergency beacon, pumping out a mindless distress call. No word from any other survivors. He swore and smacked the wall with his palm. Good riddance to the captain who'd done this to everyone, but damn, nearly a thousand people were dead! Including him, if he couldn't get rescued. He shook his head and tried to focus on the present.

  Neil checked the various padded containers on every surface of the pod. ExoTech Interstellar had supplied it with all kinds of basic survival gear, like a water purifier and flares, but the same lifepod that'd saved him was apparently floating on water. He wasn't going to be able to walk out of here and pitch a tent. And who knew what the local biology would do to human flesh?

  So: what was wrong with the life support system? He checked the computer. No urgent problems stood out, and the air outside was breathable. But the pod's batteries were limited, the external solar panel was broken, and he couldn't do much with the pod unless he kept it charged. There wasn't even usable food; a minor chemical spill had ruined the supply in one of the compartments. What about the "production facility"? During training, it'd been described to him as a nearly ful
l-featured 3D printer, a smaller version of the massive omniprinters Titan had been carrying. The big versions were meant to help start a whole colony. Omniprinters weren't as fast or efficient as a real factory, but they'd come a long way from their first days as little more than toys that squirted out layers of plastic to build crude objects.

  Neil thought about the unknown world outside, and trembled. He needed to know how screwed he was. He tapped the lifepod's computer screen to bring up specifications for the omniprinter and find out just what "nearly full-featured" meant. After a minute of reading, he whistled. The description wasn't just marketing-speak. With the lifepod's machinery, he could build everything from a wrench to a city if he had the right materials and enough time. Trouble was, there was no raw material on hand but a few ingots of plastic and titanium and some vials of the rarer elements needed for fancy electronics. Meanwhile, the pod's batteries were gradually ticking downward.

  As for his surroundings, Neil was able to pull up a feed from the one camera still working on the pod's hull. Nothing but upside-down ocean. He unlatched the floor hatch (which was on top) and peeked out for the first time. An alien sun, a little too orange and too big, lit a deceptively familiar blue sky. The air was warm and humid, filling his lungs and making him feel more awake. It was rich in oxygen. Some kind of alien bird flew by. He'd probably have said it was "majestic" and "stirring" if he weren't battered and scared and dressed in ragged pajamas. He froze in place, wanting very much to shut the hatch and wait until somebody came to help him.

  But if he was going to survive, he needed to go swimming. He ducked back into the pod and found that, for some reason, the basic supplies included a towel.

  The computer beeped and displayed, "Please provide blood sample." A picture of the medical kit appeared.

  It made sense to get himself checked out, but he wasn't eager to have an open wound to expose to the ocean. "Later." For now he used a little survival mirror and the pod's internal camera to check out his bloody skull. The cuts had healed quickly thanks to the minor biomods he'd had since birth. He knew enough first aid to check himself for a concussion. His pupils and everything looked okay.