Kasumi stormed out of her school. For the first time since she became a Magical Girl, she was going to hunt. To become stronger, to take a step closer to her goal. The surrounding students quickly made way for the girl, not wanting to be caught on her warpath. She didn't give any indication that she noticed, or cared. Her Keeper had given her a mission. There was a particularly thick presence of Vices somewhere in the industrial district. There was a good chance that others would be there on the scene, her Keeper had explained. It would be a good chance to gauge whether or not she wanted to try and form a team or continue alone. Kasumi spent majority of the train ride in silence, thinking about the upcoming hunt ahead.

Her regular visit to the hospital was cancelled, the doctors were going to attempt another treatment that was doomed to fail. That news didn't bother her as much as it would have before, because now she could do something about her sister's condition. She opened her phone and called a taxi to the industrial district. Her parents were well used to her absences, coming home at midnight wouldn't be a problem. If they hadn't run away yet, like they abandoned Mizuki.

Stepping out of the car, Kasumi was instantly struck with how heavy the atmosphere was. Considering how miserable the place looked, she was surprised that the whole district hadn't turned into one giant Vice blob. Still, she could sense the tingle of magic and other odd noises somewhere to the north east. Perhaps some others had already started the fight, regardless, she quickly transformed and rushed off to the sounds of battle. 

Upon arriving, she could see three girls battling with... something. A Vice, probably. She had never actually seen a one before but knew they could take all sorts of shapes. So it could be a particularly ugly magical girl against 3 Vices, but she doubted that was the case. Regardless, it was her time to make a difference. Amidst the excitement, she didn't notice how hard she was clenching her hand, thin streams of blood flowing from the wounds in her palm. A thought later, a dainty rose formed from her bloody palm. A thorn the size of her forearm protruding out of the top, sharp and with a terrible sheen. Now, that took care of first blood, she wanted second blood as well. Aiming at the smaller figures to the side, she leapt into the fray with a knife in her hand and an excited grin on her face.