Imants Tillers (Australian,b.1950)

Kangaroo Blank, 1988

Oil stick, gouache, oil paint and acrylic paint on 78 canvases

Magical Anime Girl- i7 ficlet

genderqueer questioning nagi, pre-slash nagimitsu, based on that one scene where mitsuki tries to throw out all of nagi's merch (943 words)

still looking for an i7 beta reader, esp if you have a good grasp on the character personalities! and ofc id be more than happy to beta some of your stuff in return (for any fandom or original) so message me if interested!

Nagi had thought he’d confessed something, sitting on his knees while Mitsuki stared down with a blinding vengeance from Nagi’s bed, the both of them surrounded by boxes half-filled with his prized Magical Cocona keepsakes.

Mitsuki had taken Nagi’s trademark magical stick from its place on the wall and brandished it with all the grace of a valiant knight from the stories Nagi’s father used to tell him as a child. Pointing the barrel of the wand at Nagi’s face like a steel-tipped sword, Mitsuki had said, “I know you’re more than just a womanizing anime nerd.”

The words I know filled Nagi’s ears like static.

“More than when you’re with girls or watching anime, when you’re dancing with us you smile the brightest.”

I know, I know, I know.

“I know because I’ve been watching you,” Mitsuki had said, and Nagi thought that maybe he knew, too.

Maybe he and Mitsuki were the same.

Mitsuki set aside his sword- the magical stick returned gently to Nagi’s sheets instead of the box of to-be-thrown-out things- and he kneeled, too, bringing their faces close together. All the animosity from earlier felt washed away like the evening tide and Nagi’s water-worn eyes had shone, reflecting back the sudden gentleness he was faced with.

No one who’d known had ever been gentle about it.

Mitsuki smiled.

“Man, you sure are handsome up close.”

The breath of those words on Mitsuki’s lips tipped Nagi further onto his knees like a young tree caught in the throes of a hurricane.

I know.

So Nagi steeled his trembling, windswept body and confessed. He’d confessed that he felt beautiful like the magical girl Cocona. Like elegance in velvet dresses and silk ruffles and perfectly pink princesses locked away in high towers, waiting to be rescued.

(I must confess…I am beautiful.)

Mitsuki frowned, rising suddenly to make a dumpster shot of one of the Magical Cocona figurines displayed by Nagi’s bedside.

“I was ready to listen but all you wanted to do was brag?” Mitsuki exclaimed incredulously, the words that had escaped Nagi’s lips too cowardly to confess anything at all.

“I’m a beautiful man,” Nagi tried again. Beautiful, not handsome, but the hard lines in Mitsuki’s forehead clearly said Nagi’s message wasn’t getting through. Mitsuki didn’t really know so Nagi switched tactics, trying his luck with the other truth Mitsuki might have been referring to. “I’ve had girlfriends, but never boyfriends.”

Nagi had never had this. Japanese boys crowding into his space 24/7 and admiring his face, admiring him aloud, kneeling on his bed like a specter of divine judgment and leaning closer than they’d ever really need to be.

“You’re my first,” Nagi said, hoping that this was known, at least. These secret feelings, barely beginning to bloom, expressed only in the suggestive asides Nagi’s meager vocabulary could manage.

Nagi realized too late he’d slipped into the plural you but Mitsuki didn’t hesitate in the slightest before correcting the words Nagi had placed so purposefully at his feet, so perhaps this wasn’t the truth Mitsuki knew, either.

(You mean, your first friends?)

And the members of idolish7 were Nagi’s first friends, like Mitsuki assumed, so Nagi hung his head and agreed, grateful that his cowardice and incompetence had at least allowed him to retain his dignity a little while longer.

Nagi had weathered the crashing wave of anger like he always did, misplaced as it was this time, and Mitsuki had gentled once more.

Then Mitsuki called him cute and helped Nagi right the storm of his room and he smiled when Nagi began explaining the pure perfection that was the MagiCona series and Nagi felt…warm, in a way he didn’t usually allow himself to.

He softened his body language until he felt more himself, mimicking the easy femininity of the magical anime girls he so admired, and Mitsuki never blinked. So maybe Nagi could allow himself this wordless honesty. Here, in his room spun with silk and safety that Mitsuki had stayed to help him rebuild even if he didn’t know.

And at night, after MagiCona had aired and everyone else was asleep, Nagi could allow himself- herself? Perhaps themself- to imagine that Mitsuki had known something else and stayed to help Nagi rebuild all the same.

Manager knew, Nagi thought. Or she at least suspected.

Somehow girls always did, and that was part of why Nagi liked them so much. Tsumugi Takanashi was a beautiful woman, and Nagi told her so often, but he didn’t desire that sort of connection from her.

“There’s a Magical Cocona themed planner being released today, isn’t there?” Manager asked as they strolled past the Zero arena. “Should we stop at a bookstore after we visit the salon?”

This connection, though- this easy friendship unafraid to wade away from masculinity was something Nagi wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Oh, yes!” he cheered. “Magical Cocona! Yay!”

And maybe when Nagi found the words for a real confession, Manager would be the first to hear them, her gentle understanding a lighthouse in the swirling storm Nagi would finally admit existed within his head.

“Are you okay, Nagi-san? You have an odd expression on your face…”

Nagi extended his hand, fingers curling upward, while the other rested gently on his own chest. Manager carefully placed her hand in Nagi’s and laughed as she was twirled, skirt billowing out in a beautiful circle.

“I’m fantastic!”

Nagi lightly squeezed Manager’s hand before letting go.

“As long as you’re sure,” she said.

“I am,” Nagi replied, smiling. “We’re going to get Magical Cocona today!”

And the baby steps were important. The magical girl Cocona assured him of this.