Hikari Noa 002: Emptiness
It’s a store like thousands littered across the world. Bright artificial lighting illuminates a sea of colors and styles on display in the women’s clothing section. Hikari Noa is at the center of it all, finding herself staring at the varying options available to her - casual tops in a few pastel colors, faux leather pants, atrociously colored dresses and even some pairs of jeans which are bright colors and can’t decide if they’re leopard print or camouflage. Honestly when she stepped inside the gaping maw of the box store she thought there would be.. people here. Yet she can’t shake the ominous feeling of complete isolation as she examines the less than promising product options. Is there really no one here? Is this actually some weird vortex in which only she and these clothes exist?
Hikari frowns as she passes by the godawful jeans, then stops before a faceless mannequin modeling an icy blue blouse with cute poofy sleeves. Some other colors are available, but they’re all so bright and warm that she can’t look at them for long. Who needs to advertise their warm fuzzy feelings to the world anyway? Of course, she knows the answer to her question as soon as it comes to her. Cute girls. Girls like the idols she’d gotten her break with, become friends with. Her mind drifts briefly to Raku and Maki. Now, though? They are both somewhere else. Her life is just as empty as the women’s department around her now. She takes one of the icy blue tops and holds it up to check the fit while also checking around to see if maybe there is someone here. No one. Not a soul. Just Hikari Noa, alone as usual.
It’s not even something you could call emptiness. In addition to the solitude she strangely finds herself in, there are no ambient sounds. No chatter of distant customers or employees, not even the air circulation system or piped in music. So quiet that you could hear a hairpin drop on the floor in the next department over. For most people it’s a realization that would unnerve them. Hikari just experiences it as more of the same feeling she’s had for a while now. Everyone she knows eventually moves to something else and disappears from her life. Just like the customers of this store. Hikari stares at the bright array of tops in front of her again, then shakes her head.
Hikari: <”Not for me. Maybe black?">
As she lifts the black top off the rack and holds it up, Hikari notices something else unsettling about this part of the store. She’s a good 50 or 60 feet deep into it, yet the temperature is as if she were standing right by the front door. It’s January in the northwest where she’s taken up residence, and that means pretty chilly weather. Being alone in a ghostly quiet section of the store with only mannequins as company and a chill in the air is unpleasant. That’s not what prompts her to move to a different department though. Suddenly the empty silence is broken by the cheerful notes of a pop song wafting down from the store’s PA system. Upbeat words and a catchy beat that are like a dagger to the heart for her.
Hikari visibly flinches at the infusion of music. For a moment she’s back home in Japan, standing in a ring with her three fellow members of UpUp Girls. As their fans cheer them on, the unit performs a happy song the likes of which is the bread and butter of idol music. She’s lost in the moment, a smile on her face. That smile is disingenuous though. First Raku stops singing, her face going cold as she steps into a looming shadow. Then Hinano follows suit, both of them replaced in the lineup by faceless mannequins wearing their ring gear. Miu walks away as well as an ‘OUT OF BUSINESS’ sign is hung on the ring post. It’s just Hikari left in the ring with three mannequins. Briefly she sees her other friend, Natsumi Maki - who smiles sadly before turning away herself. All that remains in the ring is Hikari Noa, gripping a mic tightly as everything she’s known for the last few years vanishes. The Deathmatch Princess shakes her head and is back in the present, staring at one of those faceless mannequins in cute clothing. Not too dissimilar from what Maki would wear.. she stops herself there. Hikari knows that she needs to refocus - and that means blocking out the intrusive sounds of pop music.
So Hikari pulls a pair of earbuds out and unlocks her phone. Her fingers race to tap open Spotify so that she can block out the painfully cheerful words assaulting her ears. Within seconds those words are replaced by the heavy sounds of bass guitar, drums and powerful voices of a metal band. Hikari closes her eyes and sighs in relief. Sweet respite. This is the music which gives her some semblance of life. Empowered to move on, Hikari places the two tops in her shopping basket and leaves the clothing department. Anywhere else in this vast empty space is better than there. As she paces toward an unknown destination, the lyrics of the metal song fill her ears.
The devil is a loser, and he’s my bi-
For whatever reason the sentiment makes her feel better. So much better than the aggravating tones of commercially produced pop music that only lead to ruin in the end. Hikari swings her arms a bit as she walks toward the other side of the store, absent-mindedly enjoying the rather aggressive lyrics of the song. She knows enough English to get the gist of it. It’s more in line with her - standing alone against an ocean of shadows and daring them to make the first move. Maybe the darkness of a changing world ate up her friends, but it’s not going to overwhelm her without a fight. She’s the only one left standing - this is all she has left.
She ends up stopping near a display of athletic equipment. That coldness from earlier is receding, and this display feels like a bonfire to warm herself by. Hikari ponders why as a heavy drumline kicks in and rattles her thoughts due to the volume she’s set the music to. For a moment she feels a pounding headache where the Black Peach hit her a few days ago. Despite the pain, the memory fills her with happiness. The joy of the fight against a ruthless foe makes her bizarrely cheerful; some day, she’ll return the favor to Momo. Right now though, one of those products on display seizes her attention.
Hikari: <”Hello, beautiful.”>
It’s a wooden baseball bat. Simply made and not as shiny as the metal ones next to it, but beautiful all the same. This bat speaks to her on a very deep level. Hikari gingerly lifts it off the rack with her free hand to get a better look. It’s even better now that she has her hands on it. Like that sledgehammer she found backstage before, it has such a fine weight and heft to it. In the hands of the Deathmatch Princess, just imagine what kind of damage it can do! She needs this bat in her life. A toothy grin spreads over her lips as she even thinks of a name for it. Mako. Sort of a tribute to her friend Maki. A little way to keep that trusted friend at her side.
Now Hikari feels warm and toasty inside. Havoc, chaos and pain can all be brought down on anyone who crosses her path. It’s all quite exhilarating. She starts to make her way to the cash registers but doesn’t make it far. Something else catches her eye. A row of garish pink boxes each containing the vapid smiling face of a generic blonde beauty. Hikari frowns and leans forward to more closely inspect them. Her eyes settle on one in a pink leotard - some kind of gymnast doll.
Hikari: <”What the hell’s your problem, Barbie?”>
The plastic gymnast looks so artificially pretty. Her painted-on smile is mocking the Deathmatch Princess. Clearly looking down on her as if she’s not worth a moment of the doll’s time. For a moment Hikari can imagine the doll’s entitled voice speaking to her.
"Get out of here, you anime reject".
Hikari curls her lip in disgust and takes the doll off the shelf. It takes the form of Tiffany, her next opponent, in Hikari’s mind. Suddenly words from a different Maki come out of Hikari’s mouth.
Hikari: “I’ll kick your ass, bitch.”
She tosses the doll up and hammers it full strength down the aisle. This is her world, not Tiffany’s. The doll crashes to the floor and Hikari leaves triumphantly. Behind her she hears three words called out.
“HARD TO KILL!”
