My day started as a normal day just like any other. I was lazing about on our living room couch enjoying my summer vacation.

The past month consisted of me lazing about when I could, and going to my Karate class three times a week. Well, I also hanged out with my best buds Ferguson and Alfonso during my free time. Mostly we only went out to see movies together though. Once I even got to see my childhood crush, Jackie Lynne Thomas, sit in the front row. She gave her signature passing nod to me. Even though we weren't in school!

I fully expected my safe, normal, lackadaisical life to continue as it always did.

Except today was the day she barged into my life. Without any warning, without so much as a nice to meet you my parents brought home the girl that changed my life. Honoka.

"Marco honey, I'd like you to meet your new sister. She'll be staying with us from now on so try to get along okay." My mother, Angie Diaz, called out to me.

"WHAT!?" I jumped off the couch and slid into the entryway. "What sister. I don't have a little sist-" "Hey brother I'm Honoka Diaz but you can just call me Honoka since I'm not used to the whole Diaz thing and I'd rather just be called Honoka. NOT THAT I DON'T WANT TO BE A DIAZ it's just all new to me so even though we don't know each other that well I'd like you to use my first name which is Honoka. So it's nice to meet you I'm Honoka."

"…"

"…"

I had to take a moment to process that verbal barfing this so called Honoka Diaz gave me. That was way too much hype for a first meeting.

"Okayyy. It's nice to meet you too. Mom, dad, can I just speak to you for a second. Thanks." As I dragged both my parents to the other side of the living room I stole a quick glance at my supposed new sister.

She was a small girl who looked to be around ten years old with messy neck length brown hair and wide brown eyes. She was dressed in bright white and pink hoodie and a blue skirt along with brown shoes and a pink animal backpack. In other words, she was totally adorable, but that's beside the point.

"WHO is THAT!" I discreetly yelled at my parents.

"That's Honoka, Marco, I thought we established this." My mother chided me. Completely missing the point.

"No, I mean why is she claiming to be my sister." There is no way she is my sister by blood. For one it is obvious she looks oriental, probably Japanese, while my family has had Latino roots for generations as far as I'm aware. Which could only mean…

"That's because she is your sister silly. We signed the adoption papers last month. She flew all the way from Japan to get here." My mother happily informed me.

I started tugging at my hair from the stress. "And why am I just hearing about this now! Your supposed to inform your family when a new family member is suddenly going to drop in from half way around the world."

"Oh Right. Surprise~!" She happily smiled, totally unapologetic about springing this on me.

"Meet your new sister Marco." My father, Rafael Diaz, said as he pushed Honoka in front of him to face me.

"You've got to be kidding me." I facepalmed. And shook my head. AND sighed. That's how epically messed up this is.

"Do you not want me here." The girl mumbled. Oh no. Not the eyes. Not the teary innocent doe eyes. That's not fair.

"No no no. I was just… upset I didn't have any time to plan your welcome to the family party!"

*gasps!*

Ohhh no.

"How could we be so thoughtless" "You get the cake" "You set up the Piñata" "set up the banner" "and hang the streamers!" and they're gone.

I facepalmed again. With two hands.

"…"

AND NOW SHE'S STARING AT ME! Seriously, how do you contain that much cute in a ten your old girl. In fact, what am I supposed to do with said ten-year-old girl. Do I feed her candy or something?

"Heeey. How about I show you to the guest room. Would you like that?" I said to her.

"Un. I mean, Sure." She replied.

"This way." I waved her toward me.

Up the stairs, first door on the right was an empty guest room, save for a bed, chest, nightstand and window.

"Why don't you just sit down over there. Make yourself at home. And, um. Alright." I backed out of the room and closed the door.

How do you be a good host to a foreigner again? How about setting out some snacks first? I think we have some Chex Mix in the cupboard.

There wasn't any check mix in the cupboard. But when all else fails the Marco Diaz Super Awesome Nachos are always there to have my back. What better way than culinary excellence to break the ice.

Nachos in hand, I returned to the guest room.

Okay Marco, deep breath. Back straight, wide smile and laugh when she says something. That's how you got through meeting those Chinese twins. This can't be that different right.

But when I reentered her room, it wasn't to the face of a bright eyed little girl I had just met.

"Honoka?" I called out uncertainly.

*sniffle* *sniffle* Sitting in the corner of the room with her legs pulled up and crying into her arms was a very not bright eyed and sad little girl.

"What's wrong! Did something happen. Are you hurt?" Why is she crying? Is she injured? I am Freaking Out.

"Oh. Marco-san. *sniff* It's nothing."

How is this NOTHING.

"I'm fine."

You're NOT FINE. Nobody who is Fine would be crying in a corner. Okay Marco Diaz, you have a crying girl huddled in a corner of your guest room. What do you do.

Comfort her.

"I think I understand. You've come to a strange place," my home, "far away from your home," the country of japan, "where you'll probably never see anyone you ever knew again." Like your friends.

"WAAAAAHHHH~~~~~!" Honoka burst into tears.

ABORT ABORT. Plan has failed I repeat PLAN HAS FAILED.

"H-Hey don't cry." Plan B! what do you do for a crying girl as a plan B!

You've got to distract her!

Level 1: Offering "These Nachos are great! You want some?"

*sniffle*

No good. Level 2: Be weird "Marco's *crunch* supreme *munch munch* glorious *crunch* spicy *munch munch* nachos are the best!"

*U~~~* *hic-hic*

PANIC! LEVEL 3: DROP EVERYTHING AND KARATE "Jump kick. Punch. Side kick. Overhead CHOP."

"MARCO DIAZ what is the meaning of thi-" My father charged toward us. "Toe stomp, elbow back, Judo flip." Right into me executing a rather painful combo.

And there goes my life. I mean, there goes down my father, who will then end my life. At least I wasn't hearing crying anymore. Got to look at the bright side.

*wheeze* *cough cough* "Go to your room." My father rasped out.


The next day was pretty regular as far as days went, and I even got off the hook with dad once I explained what happened. My parents went off to do parent stuff, and here I was sitting awkwardly with my new little sister.

"So, I got you some candy." I said, offering her a chocolate bar.

She looked at me suspiciously. "I know how extremely cute I am Marco-san. But I'm not actually younger than you. You don't have to coddle me." She said while swiping the candy.

"So your like twelve or something?" I asked perplexed. I mean I heard Asians are supposed to be shorter or something.

"I'm sixteen."

"Your older than me! No way. There's no way your four years older than me. If you crouched down a bit you wouldn't look out of place in kindergarten!" I yelled, disbelieving of what I heard.

She started pouting. "It's the truth." She said before starting to munch on the chocolate.

I decided to let the subject drop for now. It would be better to ask for confirmation from my parents first.

"Do you practice martial arts Marco-san." She asked in between bites.

I puffed up a bit at the mention of my favorite hobby. "I mean I don't want to brag or anything. But I'm a green belt in KaRaTe. Hwacha!" I performed a picture-perfect karate chop to show her my moves.

"Oh… what's a green belt?"

"It's only the belt just below mastery." I explained to her.

"Oh. So do you think you're a MASTER then." She asked challengingly after finishing off the candy bar.

"Well. I AM the second highest belt of my dojo, second only to my sensei."

"Honoka thinks she understands. You're a weak disciple class then." She said dismissively.

"Weak? No no. I'm super strong. I'm sure I'm like the second-best fighter in all of Echo Creek."

"I'm sorry Marco. But that's not very impressive."

"But I'm the second highest belt of my dojo! Second only to the red belt of my sensei and the Grandmaster." I said confused why she was so unimpressed.

"Well I'm sorry, but you don't look like much brother. You haven't even achieved your first Dan yet. So, you must be not even be close to expert level."

"But I am expert level. In fact, I'm practically a master of Karate." I said starting to get frustrated at her dismissal of my skill.

"PUHAHAHAHA!" She burst out laughing. "Y-you close to master level.

"And what's this about Dan's anyway. The highest is the red belt." I grumbled out.

"Ha. *snicker* You know. The Degree of Mastery once you've gotten all the basics down. Or your degree of kick-assery as someone I used to know put it. As it is your Definitely still going for your first Dan. Or red belt if you're calling it that I guess.

"Aren't you mistaken. I've been practicing since I was six you know. I'm close to as good as I'm going to get, right?"

Honoka got an intense look on her face. "Don't insult martial arts."

"Wha?" I murmured in surprise of her sudden shift in personality.

"Saying your close to the top when you're so weak?" She said and poked me in the chest. "Don't insult Martial Arts. My brother was a thousand times better than you and he-…" Her face took on a sorrowful look. "He still wasn't the best. So you can just… just take your green belt and die…"

Honoka ran up the stairs to her room and slammed the door.


I haven't seen Honoka since she slammed her door on me yesterday. I don't want to believe that I really am weak like she said. But I've never seen anyone so passionately defend martial arts like that.

'I need to speak with Sensei on this.' Marco determinedly thought and prepared his karate gi for a trip to his dojo.

The Dojo is just a bit a short jog from my home, located in the local strip mall. Sensei spends most of his weekend here. Officially class is only Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Sensei pretty much lives in the dojo.

I opened the dojo doors to find it empty except a man doing pushups on the matts. At my entrance he stood up to reveal a muscular middle-aged man with a thin beard wearing a black karate gi with ripped shoulders and a red belt.

"Marco! What can I do for you. Class is off for today you know." Sensei Brantley said to me in his usual upbeat tone.

"Sensei I need to ask. Are you a master martial artist?"

Sensei stood straight up then turned to me. "What brought this on Marco?"

"Well, its just my sister was saying some things about me not being even an expert in martial arts, let alone close to being a master. I was wondering…"

"Well haha. I may be good, but I don't know about master good. Nothing strange about that. Say, Marco, how about you show me your kata. I'll show you a few tips to make your snap kick look killer." Tempting, but not what I'm here for.

"Sensei. I need to know what's next. I've been a green belt for three years already. I think it's time for me to take the red belt test."

Brantley had a momentary surprised look before he turned serious. "I knew this day would come. Very well. Let me test you." Sensei's leg came up in a quick snap kick to my face, which caused me to step back into a combat test, ready for combat.

"Clip the toenail." His words caused me to pause in surprise. But his foot just stayed hovering in my face.

"Um Sens-" I started.

"You heard me. Clip it." I caught a toenail clipper he tossed me. Then hesitantly reached out to clip the long nail of his big toe.

What followed that was the most horrific series of training I have ever experienced in this dojo, interspersed with clipping toenails. But I kept at it, determined to step up to take my red belt. Until finally Sensei saw my determination to succeed and cracked. Just not in the way I had hoped.

"Marco, I have something to admit to you. I'm not qualified to give you your red belt because… Because I'm still a green belt myself!" Brantley cried out, covering his face in shame.

My jaw dropped open in surprise.

"The truth is, long ago I came into possession a rare set of karate instructional videos, from which came everything I know about Martial arts." Brantley admitted. "But during the final video something messed up and I could never watch the last tape. It was the How to Karate series. The red belt tape."

"Well. Why don't we just try to find another one. I mean, if you sensei came upon these tapes by chance then that means we can find them again."

"You think we could do that?" Sensei muttered kind of pitifully.

"Yes. I believe we can." I felt a sense of conviction to find this tape. For the both of us.

So we set out on the streets to find a place that would sell this How to Karate tape.

"I'm bored." Brantley complained a few minutes later when we exited a nearby video rental store.

"We barely just started looking!" I was surprised at his lacking desire to improve. He was always up for some training.

"Come on Marco. What are the odds that we'll find a rare karate tape? Let's just give up." He started to go back towards the dojo.

I watched him walking away sort of stunned at his actions. "If you won't keep searching then I'll find it myself!" I turned around and continued walking by myself. He just waved me off.


After consulting the various movie rental places in town and combing the streets for hours without any luck, Marco came upon a store with a large VHS sign on the front.

The store looked standard enough, with wooden shelves lined with video cassettes that looked in surprisingly good condition. For a store that sold Cassette tapes nowadays, everything seemed neat and orderly.

An agitated man left just before Marco approached the counter. "I'm looking for a rare set of karate instructional tapes."

The large nerdy looking man, whose nametag marked him as Darren, brightened upon hearing my request. "Finally, a customer who knows what they're talking about."

"It's the How To Karate series. The Red Belt tape." Marco informed him.

The man reached back and grabbed a red cased VHS tape from the shelf behind him. "For behold. The coveted red belt cassette. Viewed only once."

*gasp* "I've been looking all over for you." As Marco reached for it his hand was smacked away.

"Not without gloves please." The store clerk groused out.

"Ok." Marco said back. "How much is it?"

"I will give you the aficionado price. Twenty-four hundred."

"DOLLARS." Marco reeled back. "Haha ok. I can't afford that."

"Well there is another way." The store clerk scrutinized Marco. "Fight me for it."

"Really!? Yeah, ok." He startled out, happy to have a way toward his goal of becoming a red belt.

Marco's smile slowly faded as the manager stood up. Underneath that desk and nerdy appearance was what looked like a bodybuilder.

Marco firmed up his stance. "I'm not leaving without that tape." He announced.

Suddenly smashing through his desk to get at Marco, the VHS Store Manager Darren performed summersault into a spinning knife hand before seamlessly flowing into a spinning roundhouse kick at Marco's retreating form that barely fended off the assault.

Marco finally retaliated with a flying jump kick, but it had no effect on the mass of muscle. What's more he somehow used his pectorals to grab and fling him into a nearby shelf.

Suddenly being bombarded by tapes, Marco rolled away to regain himself but found no reprieve as Darren nearly smashed his foot into him.

Performing another jump kick to the opening on Darren's back yielded the same result as the first time.

Overwhelmed by the power of the attacks and unable to return fire, Marco jumped back and hastily scrambled up a shelf and away from the carnage. While crawling away, Marco was startled down by Darren literally barreling over his own merchandise.

Marco found his back pressed against a shelf in the quickly being destroyed store.

The Salesman charged forward like a wild beast before jumping and leveling a flying kick right at Marco.

Marco cringed as he brought his arms up, expecting to soon be in for a world of hurt. And he was right.

The kick slammed into his flimsy defense like a car hitting a biker, and Marco went through two shelves before rebounding off a third.

"Well, well. It looks like your failed. Any last words kid." The clerk gloated.

Marcos head swam, and he just barely registered the words of the store manager. "My name." A shooting pain lanced up his spine he used the shelf to climb up from his hands and knees. "Is Marco Diaz." Marco stood, panting and using the shelf for support. "And I'm not leaving without that tape."

"You haven't forfeited yet. Commendable Mr. Diaz. But your defiance, ends here."

Darren once more charged forward to deliver the finishing blow.

Marco watched this with a detached sort of interest. The world seemed to slow a bit as he set himself into a basic Karate stance, his arms both up in fists as if to guard from the oncoming freight train.

The flying kick came just like the one before it. But this time he was prepared.

His arms formed an x block as he stepped into the attack. His raising arms caught Darren's leg by the calf, destabilized the kick, but the forward momentum still carried the hulk of muscle forward. Marco slid back the force before his foot caught the edge of the shelf behind him and he stood strong.

Darren's forward momentum transferred to centrifugal force and combined with his weight, slammed his head onto the floor hard, much harder than anything Marco could have hit otherwise.

A few moments passed as Marco just stood there. Still dazed from his slight concussion, Darren spoke. "You defeated me. The tape is yours!" VHS Store Manager Darren exclaimed brightly.


Marco stuck around with Darren to help fix up the place. Even though Darren did most of the damage, it was still half his fault. That and he had some questions for what was obviously an accomplished martial artist.

As Marco was sweeping the place he decided to start with something simple. "So how did you get this tape anyway. It's supposed to be really rare or something right."

Darren righted another down shelf. "Hmpf. Of course I would have the tape. As a movie connoisseur I obviously have to practice the How To martial arts."

"Wait, you say that like these movies are their own style." Marco said confused.

"Of course they are. Since you obviously don't know, let me tell you. The How To Martial Arts series are made to show beginners how to look like a movie martial artist. Why did you think we had so many flying kicks and telegraphed attacks. It's to look cool." Darren said condescendingly.

"You mean all this time we were faking a fight!" Marco shouted, shocked.

"Doi. The back of the box clearly states, quote: Master these super awesome moves to look just like a REAL master martial artist. Warning: Use of these tapes does not guarantee martial arts mastery' end quote."

Marco quickly grabbed his case to confirm that. "If that's true then what have I been dedicating myself to all my life. Do I even know karate? Am I just some two-bit performer. Everything I know is a lie!" He cried out at his situation.

"First off, don't cry on my carpet. Secondly, the How To Karate series was in fact, specifically designed to look impressive on film. But as someone who defeated me, an expert in How to Martial Arts, I take offense to you calling yourself a two-bit performer. As someone who has bested me in combat you can only be called a first-rate performer."

"That doesn't make me feel any better! How can yourself a martial artist when you practice this scam!" Said Marco pulling at is hair.

*Smack* Marco felt his face cave in from the force of the blow to his face.

"You misunderstand things Marco Diaz. Your concept of Martial Arts is paltry. A martial art can be anything as long as it is dedicatedly pursued both mentally and physically. I CHOSE to practice the How To martial arts, and while I have long since plateaued in my improvement, I take great pride in my skills as a martial artist. You who denounces his style are a shame to dedicated martial artists everywhere. Take your tape and get out of my store." Darren commanded.

With his head down, Marco picked up How to Karate volume 8 from where it had fallen and hugged it to his chest and made to leave the store.

"I have a question before I leave. Would you consider yourself a Master martial artist."

"Not even close."

"I see." And Marco left.


At the beep of a button, a hidden camera ejected a cassette tape to a smirking Darren.

A quick look at his destroyed store had Darren frown.

"Hmpf. Worth it." He muttered. The tape would make splendid addition to his collection. Besides, his old boss was always on the lookout for fresh new potential, wasn't he?


Hours later found a still walking Marco coming to a stop in front of his dojo, the sound of rhythmic hitting coming from inside. For a moment Marco just stood there staring in the window at his sensei hitting the punching bag over and over again. But eventually he stepped inside.

"Oh, Marco. Hey little buddy. You still upset about that thing?" said Sensei as he took a breather.

They stood there, with the air getting tenser as Marco lifted his eyes to stare at Sensei. Then he took a stance.

"Woah little buddy. Looking for a spar. I'm a bit tired right now and I was gonna head home soon. So could we put this off for another time?"

"Fight me." Marco stated without emotion. "I want you to fight me."

"Well, I mean, like I said, I want to get home soon. Dinner should be ready soon and mom was gonna make meatloaf." Brantley said uncomfortably.

"…"

"Ok. Well—" Before he could finish his sentence or take another step away Marco jumped at him with a flying thrust kick which was blocked by Sensei's forearm.

Once he landed on his feet Marco struck with a myriad of punches, none of them hitting anything but arms or hands.

"Fight me dangnabbit!" Marco increased his pace and ferocity as Sensei kept retreating away from him. The hardest kicks he could muster were thrust at Sensei, loosening his guard, before a haymaker slammed right into Brantley's face.

The blows stopped, and Brantley put his hand to his cheek, shocked at the brutality of his student. "Marco. What is this about?" he said as he gazed at Marco critically.

Marco panted for a moment to catch his breath and then growled out. "I just found out that everything you've ever taught me is a lie."

Marco performed a flying kick, to which Brantley caught by the toe, slamming him to the ground. Not to be discouraged, Marco rolled backwards and jumped to his feet before charging right back at Brantley.

His breathing came hard and fast as his arms were thrown out wildly and with abandon. A stray punch managed to clip Brantley's side.

Finally experiencing how serious his student is about this, Brantley lowered his stance and firmed up.

Marco set into Brantley with punch combination which were all redirected by his hands. And suddenly Marco was on the receiving end of a kick to the stomach.

Punches and kicks started to hammer into Marco's guard. The blows were strong and the intimidating. But it was nothing compared to facing down Darren. They were nothing close to the strongest.

A punch threw his head back.

Brantley was the better fighter. He had more experience. He had more skill. And he had more strength.

A kick knocked him to the side.

But no matter what, Marco didn't want to lose to this man.

An overextended punch led him to be slammed into the ground.

For years, as far back as he could remember, Marco had always been imitating his sensei.

'He always first kicks out with his right foot.' Marco ducked without looking and did a quick mule kick.

He went to every class, sat through every speech, participated in every training.

'When he's startled, he has a habit of charging forward instead of backing off.' Marco rolled to the side and swept the legs out from under him. But Brantley summersaulted back to his feet.

Marco knew everything about how his sensei's martial arts.

'And he always tries to finish with a straight punch.' Marco jumped up and his fist met Brantley's face as the man was charging forward.

But that wasn't enough to stop the fist that planted into Marcos gut before he fell back.

Marco gasped for breath as he stood hunched over the fallen form of sensei Brantley. When Brantley didn't get up, Marco let himself fall forward too.

Marco looked at his Sensei. The man that had taught him everything he knew about martial arts. The unsurmountable pillar of strength that he had always sought to become. The man who he had always thought to be the strongest in the world was laid out on the ground by his strength. Marco had often looked at Brantley and saw his future as a martial artist. It was suddenly unacceptable.

And while the both of them remained sprawled across the dojo mats he started to giggle and chuckle before bursting out laughing harder than he ever remembered ever doing. Brantley let out some laughs too. But, well, they were probably laughing about different things.

In this moment the student had surpassed the Sensei.


"Brantley. I want you to have this." Marco placed the How To Karate Volume 8 tape in his hands. "It's only been viewed once, so make sure this time you put it in a working VCR."

"Awesome. Hey, does that mean you've already watched it?" Said Brantley with a sparkle in his eye.

"No." Marco hesitated. "No, I've never seen it."

"Oh! Then you want to watch it together. I could break out the old tv in the back." He gestured to the old storage area.

"No." He took a deep breath. "Brantley Sensei. I have an announcement to make." Marco took the formal bowing posture. "As of today, I am formally leaving the Tang Soo Do branch of the How To Karate Style. I will turn in my belt and final payments to the strip mall dojo tomorrow."

"Hwa? Marco. Are you sure. There's no going back from that you know. Once you renounce your belt you'll have to formally test for it again." Brantley said with a sinking feeling at this conversation.

"Yes. There is no going back from this." Marco said firmly.

"But why?"

A moment passed before Marco answered. "You know… I think I understand this style now. I was told it was a style designed for performers, that its purpose is to look cool. But that doesn't mean it's any less of a martial art. Martial arts are all about dedication. And that is why I cannot continue to practice the How To Martial Arts. I can't be dedicated to a martial art that revolves around appearance. I'm going to go find my own style. One I can proudly claim to be a part of."

*sniff* "You were always my best student Marco." Brantley said while crying. "If you think you need to go out into the world to find your place, then do it. The truth is that I ran out of things to teach you a while ago. Perhaps it's *sniff* for the best."

Suddenly Brantley straightened his back with more pride then he ever had before. With tears leaking down his face he fell to his knees and assumed a seiza position. "Present your belt young one."

Marco turned his back to his former sensei and untied his belt before he too fell to his knees in front of Brantley and presented his green belt. "Thank you for everything Sensei."

"Thank you for everything student." They both gave one more bow before Marco got up and left the strip mall dojo. Brantley never rose his head.


Marco made his way up the steps to his room. But on his way there he stopped in front of a door and knocked. "Honoka, I don't know if you're there, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for doubting you earlier." With no answer given in return Marco walked away toward his room. It had been a long day.

Human beings have various thresholds for pain. There are the aches and the owies that are easily ignorable. There are the flinches: a stubbed toe, hitting your head, a paper cut. It gets worse from there to bodily harmful pains: like a burned hand or a punch to the face.

Then there are the, 'Oh god, I'm going to die, please help me!' pains.

With the right mental preparedness, or a healthy dose of adrenalin, it is possible to suffer through high tiers of pain without too much backlash.

Marco was tired from his constant fighting and needed a break before getting cleaned up. So, with a heavy heart, a hungry stomach, and a sore body he fell backwards onto his bed. And promptly burst into pain.

In this case Marco had neither adrenalin, nor was he mentally prepared. That's why, the moment he laid on his back, the back that had been horribly injured and bruised over the course of the day, he had a few moments of excruciating pain before meeting his threshold.

His eyes shot open, his back arched, and a silent scream escaped his lips. And then he fell unconscious.


Authors Note

So I was thinking about it and decided Marco could be a badass if he really wanted to. But in SVTFOE magic completely trumps Martial Arts. So why not level the playing field a bit. And when it comes to turning weak characters into physical monsters, what better series than Histories Strongest Disciple Kenichi.

Anyway, I was trying to think of some strong magical girl types, or magic users in general, that would make good reference material for moving this fic along. It's a mark against me as an otaku, but I haven't actually watched the Sailor Moon series, or much magical girl stuff in general.

Writing Marco is somewhat easy because I more or less have appreciated the martial arts genre in real life, manga, even other fanfictions. On the other hand, I have a hard time writing Star because... Magical girl power works off of completely different principles than martial arts.

See for the magic types it only takes a single spell for things to get super freaky or to turn the tide. So in a lot of ways it takes not so much skill, but some kind of emotional power "My friends need me, I'm going to do this!" kind of thing. I feel like magical girls are more a product of their environment than despite it. In other words, Star is a hard for me to predict.

Any pointers for magical girl type fighting, or a cool anime to check out, may be helpful.

Praise and criticisms welcome.