RECOMMENDED FOR MATURE READERS
The rain fell before midnight. The streets were covered in blood, and God came to wash them clean; clean as a city could be, anyhow.
I stepped inside and slipped my shoes off by the door. Cold ran down my fingertips and fell as fat drops onto the wood panel. Each was stained with a cloud only visible if you saw it close; life itself watered down and made thin.
Beyond the threshold the lights were still on, dimmed, and permeated with whispers from the center of the room. On the television were two men fighting to talk over each other; between them a picture of three figures they mistook for human.
“Nobody really knows what these magical girls want,” one pressed.
The other nodded. “I agree, Kamina. People have been calling them ‘heroes’, but rumors of monsters have been unsubstantiated. The only proof we have is of the damage they’ve caused”
“Police are still wondering if they’re connected to the murder of the Black Soul Angels, a gang based out of the Shinjuku district-”