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(or rather, the expanded universe. original prompt: "magical girl who didn't pay for her magical item with money, exactly...")
"Listen, it's not like she could possibly even *notice* one of her mountain of weird trinkets going missing anyway, and she can afford—"
Wait. I'm arguing with a magic talking ferret. Why am I arguing with a magic talking ferret?
Oh right. Because the ferret started it. "Hey! It's not a *trinket*, it's the legendary warrior Miracle Justice's brooch, get it right. And anyway, Makoto's the chosen one of like, everyone."
"Of course they are," I mutter, propping my chin on my hand and spinning the brooch around idly on my desk. "They're good at *everything*."
The ferret squints at me. "I thought you were friends."
"Like, yeah, but—" I shrug. "They're rich, they're perfect, everyone loooooooves them. I'm not immune, it's just hard not to be jealous. I just have a part-time job at a conbini, medium test scores, happen to be good at soccer and *also* apparently happen to be good at shoplifting."
"Okay, you *definitely* can't be Miracle Justice. Give that brooch back."
"You ever think about how *all of society* is inherently unjust?" I hadn't actually had this on my mind when I lifted the brooch, but I guess—all these opinions were in there somewhere, weren't they? "Shoplifting is like, the pettiest crime you can get. Do you think a little theft here or there really matters to a big corporation, or to a rich kid? Nah. What's unjust is how everything works so differently depending on your family and connections—"
Ah. Yeah. It's hard to think about dad, still, isn't it? The reason why I live alone and why Makoto is, like, my only friend.
I turn to face him, finally. (I *think* the ferret's a "him," anyway. Just a vibe.) "Don't you think *that's* probably fueling the Chain Gang more than pocketing a candy bar or a tank top here or there?"
He frowns, deeply. "I hate that you're convincing me."
"Can't help you with that." I shrug. "And anyway, it's not like I dislike Makoto. Maybe this will even give them a hand, if I take one of these of their plate." I look away. I'm attempting a thoughtful expression, but it does kind of sound *lonely*, to have to try and save like 20 magical kingdoms at once. I barely see them, these days. "It's got to suck to handle all of that alone."
He frowns even more, but, after a long, silent moment, extends a paw, as if to shake. "We'll give it a try," he says. "I can't do anything if the transformation doesn't work for you, though."
"Worth a shot," I say: the three words as a preface to disaster.