There's something peculiar about waiting rooms. Really peculiar. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

The thought echoed through my head as I shuffled in my seat, fidgeting with the hem of my favorite pink blouse. The pastel-colored walls that were meant to soothe just made me feel more on edge, and the faint instrumental music playing from hidden speakers somewhere felt more like a dull drone than a comforting melody.

Dr. Leena, worked out of a discreet, modern clinic on the outskirts of Shoreline City. The place was known to only a select few, those who could appreciate the secrets it held. I'd been coming here for my weekly sessions since I’d come back here after my primary education.

A precautionary measure, they'd said, to ensure I was coping well after the incident at JL City. Not that it did me any good, considering I jumped off a bridge two weeks ago, right before I was supposed to see her.

I rested my head against the cool surface of the wall, my thoughts wandering back to the previous week. I remembered the rush of warmth I’d felt under Morada’s gentle touch, the nervous anticipation as I’d stepped out into the daylight. I had felt... normal. Or at least, some semblance of it. I’d felt like Natasha, and not Celestial Sonata. It reminded me of simpler times in my childhood. The little moments of girl time so to speak.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the door leading into the doctor's office opened, and Dr. Leena emerged. Tall, spectacled, with long, light blue hair, she carried an air of calm and tranquility that I couldn't help but admire.

"Hello, Natasha," she greeted me with a warm smile. Her eyes, however, held a flicker of concern and worry that I was all too familiar with.

I felt a pang of guilt. I had caused her worry, and she had always been nothing but kind to me.

"Hi, Dr. Leena," I returned her greeting, trying to sound more upbeat than I felt as I walked in and sat down at my usual seat.

It was a cozy space, the walls adorned with inspirational quotes and framed certificates. A single large window overlooked a small courtyard, where a variety of colorful flowers were in bloom. A serene sight that managed to soothe my unease, if only just a little.

I took my usual spot on the couch, wringing my hands nervously in my lap as Dr. Leena sat across from me, settling down on her chair.

Dr. Leena sat across from me, her steady gaze never leaving mine. “How are you feeling today, Natasha?” she asked, her voice gentle.

I shrugged. “Strangely enough, better,” I said, though I didn’t know how true that was. "Like everything's starting to change for the better. I guess?"

I felt… different. That much was true. But better? I wasn’t sure. The sensation was foreign, like I was trying to read a book in a language I’d never learned.

She nodded, seemingly contemplating my words. “Well, that’s a start,” she said. “Can you tell me about it?”

And so, I did.

I spoke about the battle I’d fought when I crossed the portal to Earth. Ikki’s version of Terra. About how I’d flown over the city saving as many people as I could. About the climactic clash with the Duke-class Chaos Beast, where Magical Girl Shasta and I had finally brought down the skyscraper-sized monster that had been leading the battle.

I spoke about how I’d discovered Ikki was battling on the bridge below me… how I could have shifted my attention from the monster for just a moment to rescue his sister Izumi. About how he’d nearly fallen off the bridge himself chasing after his sister, and how I discovered it was him after I removed his helmet.

Discovering that I had failed Ikki just like I failed to save Carrie’s mother all those years ago had nearly broken me. Getting kicked around again the day I got back to school had been the final tipping point, which caused me to renounce my title right then and there, destroy my treasured locket, and storm off to jump off a bridge.

My voice caught in my throat as I finished recounting the series of events. Dr. Leena gave me a moment to compose myself, before quietly scribbling something onto her notepad.

"Mmm. I noticed you talked a lot about the others. About the civilians, about Ikki, and Carrie. But how did you feel, Natasha?" she asked, looking up from her notepad to meet my gaze. Her question threw me off. It was simple, yes, but it wasn't something I had considered in detail.

"I... I don't know," I confessed. "I felt like... like I was losing myself. Like I was slowly sinking into this... void. And I was scared. Scared of not being able to pull myself out. Scared of not being able to save the people I care about. Scared of failing... again. It just got worse and worse until that day and now I… sort of feel like I’m me again? Not really, though."

Dr. Leena nodded with a gentle expression. "That's quite a burden for someone your age, Natasha," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "Tell me more about this feeling of losing yourself. This is the first time you’ve spoken to me about this and I would like to listen."

And there it was. The question I had been dreading. The feeling of losing myself, my identity, was something I had been struggling with ever since I embraced Celestial Sonata. I was Natasha, a fifteen-year-old girl with round glasses and curly hair, who was a little too geekily obsessed with the music. But at the same time, I was Celestial Sonata, the fifth most powerful Magical Girl in the world. A Mahou idol who had anonymously platinumed several albums. But somewhere along the line, the lines between the two had blurred.

I was Natasha, but I was also Celestial Sonata. And yet, I was neither. I was caught in this strange limbo where I didn't know who I was anymore. Every day was a struggle to try and understand which part of me was real and which part was just a role I was forced to play.

"I... I don't know who I am anymore, Dr. Leena," I admitted. "I am Natasha, but I am also Magical Girl Celestial Sonata. But I don't feel like either of them. It's like... it's like I was losing bits and pieces of myself every day. And I'm scared that one day, there won't be anything left of me if I go back to being Sonata."

Dr. Leena didn't say anything for a moment. She simply sat there, watching me with a solemn expression.

Finally, she sighed, a deep, weary sound that echoed my own feelings. "An identity crisis, especially in teenagers, is not unusual, Natasha," she began, her voice steady. "But your situation is unique. You're not just a typical teenager. You are a Magical Girl, and our line of work comes with its own set of challenges."

"Identity is a complex concept, Natasha," she continued. "It's not something that can be easily defined. It's a mix of who we think we are, who others perceive us to be, and how we wish to be seen. And when you are living a double life like you are, it can get even more complicated. I can certainly relate, although admittedly I did not achieve as much in my career."

She paused for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. "The fact that you're here, finally talking to me and opening up about it, is a step in the right direction. It shows that you're willing to confront these feelings, instead of running away from them."

I blinked at her, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. "I'm just... tired, Dr. Leena," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm tired of pretending. Tired of hiding. Tired of people dying. I just want to be me again, but I don't even know who 'me' is anymore."

I saw her give a small, understanding nod, her blue eyes softening with empathy. She was silent for a while, her fingers gently drumming on the notepad as she contemplated my words. I'd always appreciated her willingness to give me space, to allow me to express my thoughts without rushing me. It was a stark contrast to the fast-paced, pressure-filled world of Magical Girls that I was used to.

"We all want to find ourselves, Natasha. But sometimes, in the process, we end up losing who we are," she said gently.

"And I think, in your case, being Celestial Sonata has slowly been overshadowing Natasha. You've been so focused on saving everyone, being this beacon of hope, that you've forgotten how to save yourself. How to be Natasha.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the window as if looking for answers in the blooming flowers outside. After a long moment, she turned back to me, her expression thoughtful.

"I think, perhaps, that was a part of it," she finally said, her voice soft. "But I also believe that you were trying to express your pain, your desperation, in a way that others would understand. Your actions that day — when you destroyed your catalyst. As drastic as they were, they were a cry for help. And that's okay, Natasha. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to not be okay."

Her words, as simple as they were, felt like a balm on my battered soul. It was okay to ask for help. It was okay to not be okay. Those words felt like a lifeline, a faint glimmer of hope in the murky sea of my guilt and self-doubt. I was so used to being the one who helped, who saved, that I had forgotten what it was like to be the one who needed saving.

Dr. Leena's next words broke me from my thoughts. "So, I want to talk about Ikki," she said, her voice firm but gentle. "I understand that you wanted to sort out some feelings for him. Is that correct?"

I nodded, my heart giving a sudden squeeze at the mention of his name. Ikki. Just the thought of him sent a rush of mixed emotions swirling within me, too complicated to disentangle. "Yeah, that's... that's right," I replied, my voice shaky.

"And you mentioned that you were shocked when you found out he worked as a support operative for Magical Girls, and that he was on the bridge with his sister that day," she continued, her tone probing but gentle. "How did you feel when you found out about that?"

"I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. Like I was losing my grip on reality. I mean, we’d only known each other for around three months, but he was an anchor onto my fraying identity as ‘Natasha’ — just a normal boy from Earth who was clever with a big heart, you know?”

Dr. Leena paused at that, her pen hovering over her notepad. She had that look on her face, the one that told me she was considering her next words carefully. "And how does that make you feel now, Natasha, versus our previous sessions? About Ikki and about yourself?" she finally asked.

A knot tightened in my stomach at her question. How did I feel? About Ikki and about myself? The answer wasn’t so straightforward.

"I... I still feel hurt on some level," I confessed, the words tumbling out of me. "I'm hurt because I cared about Ikki. I still do. And finding out that he was part of this world, the world I was trying to escape from... it was like a punch to the gut. It's not that I blamed him or anything, but it felt like one more piece of my normal life was instantly stripped away from me."

I bit my lip, looking down at my hands. "As for how I feel about myself... I feel... guilty, I guess? I mean, Izumi... his sister Izumi. She fell off the bridge because I was too focused on the battle. And Ikki... he had to watch his little sister fall, helpless. Because of me. Because of my failure."

Dr. Leena nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving mine. "I can understand why you might feel that way, Natasha. But I want you to remember that what happened was not your fault. It's okay to feel guilty, it's a natural reaction to what happened. But it's also important to understand that you did everything you could."

I swallowed hard, trying to absorb her words. I knew what she was saying was true, logically. But the guilt, the regret, it was not something that could be erased with a few words.

"But I didn't do everything I could have, did I?" I asked, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I mean, I could have caught her in time and still managed to help take down the Duke. I could have saved Izumi. But I didn't. And now she's gone."

A heavy silence fell between us. Dr. Leena didn't reply immediately. Instead, she sat quietly, her gaze thoughtful. Finally, she spoke, her voice soft but firm.

"Natasha, hindsight is always perfect. You're looking back at a situation where you had split seconds to make decisions, and you're blaming yourself for not making the 'right' one. But the truth is, you made the best decision you could, given the circumstances. Yes, you might think you could have done something different now, but at that moment, you did what you thought was best. And that's all anyone can do."

I was silent as I took in her words. She was right, of course. But it didn't make the guilt go away. It didn't erase the fact that Izumi was still missing, and that Ikki was still hurting.

"And about Ikki," Dr. Leena continued, her gaze focused on me. "You mentioned that he became an anchor to your identity as 'Natasha.' Can you elaborate on that?"”

I felt my cheeks heat up as I thought of Ikki again.

"It's... it's complicated," I began, avoiding Dr. Leena's gaze. "I didn't expect to... feel things for him. But the more I got to know him, the more I found myself drawn to him. He saw me as Natasha, not as Celestial Sonata. He treated me as... just a girl. Not a superhero. And that was... nice."

Dr. Leena nodded, her gaze thoughtful. "You were drawn to the normalcy he represented, the normalcy you thought you lost when you became a Magical Girl. You felt seen by him, not for your powers, but for who you are," she offered, her voice gentle. "But, Natasha, let's explore a possibility here. Do you think it's fair to put the weight of your identity, your self-worth, onto someone else, even if that person is as kind and understanding as Ikki?"

The question was difficult, piercing the veil of my idealized view of Ikki and my relationship with him. I had never thought about it like that. The realization that I might have been using Ikki as a crutch, an escape from my own identity issues, was an uncomfortable one. But it was a necessary discomfort, a growing pain.

"No... it's not fair," I admitted, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. "I've been... using him as a safety net, haven't I? Trying to find myself in him, instead of... well, me."

Dr. Leena gave me a soft smile. "This kind of self-awareness is the first step towards growth, Natasha," she said. "I believe that everyone in our lives serves a purpose. Ikki may have served as a mirror for you to see parts of yourself that you have lost or forgotten. But it’s important to remember, you are the one who has to do the inner work."

She paused, her gaze unwavering. "Your feelings for Ikki are valid, Natasha. But it’s also important to explore if you are experiencing a parataxic distortion. To remind you again, it is what occurs when someone perceives others based on their own skewed and distorted expectations and fantasies, rather than who the person truly is. I have hinted as such in our previous sessions, but I believe that's what you may have been doing with Ikki, to an extent, with respect to normalcy."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Was she right? Had I been viewing Ikki through the lens of my own expectations — my own longing for normalcy and belonging? It was a lot to take in, but as much as it stung, I knew I needed to hear it. I needed to confront these feelings, to understand them better.

"I think... you might be right, Dr. Leena," I admitted, feeling an odd sense of relief. It was painful, but it was a pain that signaled growth, understanding. "I need to understand more about these feelings. About myself... and about Ikki."

"That's a good starting point, Natasha," Dr. Leena said, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Exploring these feelings can be tough, but remember, you're not alone. You have people who care about you and are willing to help. And you always have this space, where you can voice your thoughts and feelings without judgment."

Her words, simple and sincere, were a reassurance I didn't know I needed. A reassurance that despite the chaos of my life, I still had a safe space, a place where I could be vulnerable and still be accepted.

"And now, let's explore something else," she continued after a beat. "Your relationship with Carrie. From what you've told me in the last two years, there's a lot of pain and regret associated with her. And yet, she was the one who saved you." I flinched at the mention of Carrie.

The wound was still raw, still painful. We were best friends, inseparable. And then everything fell apart. I’d tolerated abuse and blame from her for the last three years. On many levels, I still felt like I deserved it.

"Yeah," I muttered, my gaze falling to my lap. "You know, when I jumped from that bridge, I realized… I realized I didn’t want to die, but it was too late. For a moment, I felt resigned and almost tranquil that it was about to end. And then, she was there. Carrie was there."

The memory was still so vivid, so raw. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of my life, but it had also been a strange, bittersweet moment of catharsis. I had screamed and thrown all of my pent-up anger right at her while I floated in the storm suspended by her magic. I

Dr. Leena remained silent for a moment, her gaze never leaving mine. "She was there," she finally echoed. "And from what you've told me, she and Ikki both raced against the clock to save you in spite of their antagonistic relationship. That must stir up a lot of complex emotions."

"Yes, it does," I confessed, fiddling with the hem of my skirt as I tried to gather my thoughts. "Carrie... Carrie and I... it's complicated. It's always been complicated." I looked up at Dr. Leena, my eyes brimming with confusion and sorrow. "I thought she hated me, you know? She made it pretty clear for years that she blamed me for what happened to her mother. And then... she saved me. I was so lost and confused. I was already at the brink and I’d snapped. I screamed at her demanding to know why she saved me."

I stopped for a moment, the memory of that horrifying moment flashing through my mind. The wind whipping around us, the sheer drop beneath me, the terror that had clutched my heart... and then the unexpected relief and contradictory anger when I felt Carrie's magic wrapping around me, pulling me back from the brink.

Dr. Leena was silent for a moment, letting my words hang in the air. "It sounds like there's a lot of unresolved issues between you and Carrie," she finally said. "And it seems to me like her saving you might have thrown your perceptions of her, and your relationship with her, into disarray."

"It did," I replied, my voice shaky. "I don't... I don't understand why she did it. After everything that happened, everything I did... Why would she save me? I let her mother, and the little cousin she basically helped raise as a little sister die when I could have saved her. Just like I could have saved Izumi."

Dr. Leena was quiet for a moment, allowing me to collect myself. "It's clear that what happened with Carrie's mother had a significant impact on you. The guilt you've carried because of it... it's immense. But, Natasha, I want to remind you again that what happened was not your fault. Mind you, I am proud of you for finally revisiting and addressing this."

"But it feels like it is," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was fast and strong enough. I should have been able to save her. But I didn't. And because of that, I lost my best friend. And for the past three years, I’ve suffered under her bullying… her hatred."

"From what you've told me," Dr. Leena said, "Carrie's actions were driven by her own grief and anger. It's common, especially in young people, to externalize their pain, to lash out in grief. You became the target because you were there, because she knew you, and because you were a part of that world that took her mother from her. But I must emphasize that doesn't mean it was your fault."

Her words made sense, logically. But accepting them, truly accepting them... it felt like an insurmountable task.

Dr. Leena looked at me thoughtfully. "I think, deep down, despite the anger and the pain, Carrie still remembers the friendship you two once had. People are complex, Natasha. They can hurt us deeply, but they can also surprise us. It's also possible that she's been dealing with her own guilt over how she treated you all the while she was attacking you."

I felt a lump in my throat, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "That makes sense, but I don't know if I can ever forgive her, Dr. Leena. She hurt me so much. She was my best friend, and she turned into my worst enemy."

"That's perfectly valid, Natasha," she replied, her voice soft. "Forgiveness is not something that can be forced. It's a process, and sometimes, it's a long and difficult one. You have to take it at your own pace. And sometimes, even if you do forgive, you can't forget. And that's okay too."

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. I felt a strange sense of relief, a lightness I hadn't felt in a while. It was far from the solution to all my problems, but it felt like... a start. Like maybe, just maybe, I could start putting myself back together.

"But I think... I think I can try to forgive her, eventually," I blurted out. "Not for her sake, but for mine. I've been carrying this self-loathing, this anger for so long... it's tiring."

"Forgiveness is a powerful thing, Natasha," Dr. Leena said, her voice filled with warmth. "But remember, it's not something that can be forced or rushed. It's a journey, not a destination. Take your time, work through your feelings at your own pace."

Her words, like a salve on an open wound, soothed my frayed nerves. I nodded, appreciating the understanding and empathy she offered. "Thank you, Dr. Leena," I murmured, feeling an odd sense of calm settle over me.

"Of course, Natasha. This journey of healing, of self-discovery, it's not an easy one," she said, her gaze steady. "But remember, you don't have to walk it alone. You have your newfound friends, your support system. And you have me here as your guidance counselor. I'm here to help you navigate through this."

Dr. Leena's words lingered in the silence that followed, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of my thoughts and feelings.

As if sensing my thoughts, Dr. Leena gave me a gentle smile. "I think we made some excellent progress today, Natasha. Remember, it's okay to feel what you're feeling. Guilt, anger, confusion, grief... These are all normal reactions to the things you've been through. And remember, it's okay to ask for help. Please never hesitate to call."

"I… I will, Dr. Leena," I said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "I promise."

She nodded with a beaming smile. "Good. And remember, Natasha. You are not just Celestial Sonata. You are Natasha, a fifteen-year-old girl who's been given an enormous responsibility. It's okay to feel overwhelmed. It's okay to make mistakes. And it's okay to be just Natasha. With that said, I am proud of you, and I will clear your psychiatric evaluation for an artificial catalyst. I expect you here again for our appointment week."

With those words echoing in my ears, I stepped out of Dr. Leena's office and into the brisk afternoon air. It was cold, the sky turning into a deep, dull gray with cumulonimbus clouds, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like there was a break in the clouds.

The concrete of the clinic's exterior was a stark contrast to the warmth within, a tableau of stark relief against the stark drizzle, the hues of the sunset swallowed by the encroaching clouds. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around myself, my thoughts reverberating with the echoes of the conversation.

Ikki. Carrie. Myself. An interweaving of past and present, a lattice of trauma, confusion, and lingering hope that had become my reality. I looked at the fleeting pedestrians, their faces blurred in the cool twilight, each living their own stories, battling their own demons. Was mine so different from theirs? Had I even put myself on a pedestal?

Just as I was about to pull out my phone, a familiar bike's roar cut through my introspection.

Ikki.

He pulled up alongside the curb, the engine humming beneath him, the misty drizzle glistening off the metallic orange surface of the vehicle. It was an ordinary-looking one, unlike whatever strange magitech he’d used in the battle on Earth and well, on the bridge. His familiar presence brought a rush of warmth, like a flame igniting the kindling, the vulnerability of my conversation with Dr. Leena momentarily subsumed by the comfort of familiarity.

"Ready to go, Nat?" Ikki asked, his voice audible over the purring engine. He offered his hand, a beacon in the half-light, a symbol of a safe harbor amidst the storm.

"Yes," I replied, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of my thoughts. I placed my hand in his, feeling the familiar warmth radiate into my palm. It was an anchor, a tether in the swirling sea of my emotions. But this time, it was different. I was different. Ikki was a friend, not my crutch. Did I feel more than that about him? Well, time would tell. I’d have to sort that out, and hopefully in a much healthier state of mind. I’d definitely listen to Leena when it came to parataxic distortions.

As we rode away, the wind buffeting against us, my thoughts returned to Dr. Leena's words. An artificial catalyst. A way to become Celestial Sonata again, albeit with more time required than a natural transformation would invoke.

Yet, unlike before, the prospect didn't fill me with latent fear or trepidation. Instead, it felt like an opportunity, a means to channel my abilities without losing myself in the process this time.

At the end of the day, I was just me, and that was okay. It was more than okay.

It was enough.