Title: Fate/Desiderantes Affectibus
Author: Rowan Seven
Teaser: A doomed master summons an equally tragic servant in the Fourth Holy Grail War. Together, can they change fate or will their journeys once again end in sorrow? Pre-Rebellion.
Rating: PG-13.
Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for both series. The Fate franchise belongs to Type-Moon. Puella Magi Madoka Magica belongs to Studio Shaft and Aniplex. This story is a work of fanfiction written for fun. I make no claims to either series.
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Chapter Seven – Do You Want To Talk About It?
Deep within the sewers beneath Fuyuki, a young man in his early twenties brushed his wavy orange hair to the side of his handsome face and smiled proudly as his brown eyes studied his newest masterpiece of desecrated human flesh. The young man's name was Ryuunosuke Uryuu, and he was a serial killer with artistic aspirations of a type only a similarly twisted mind could appreciate. Unfortunately for Fuyuki, that was exactly what Ryuunosuke had found when the Holy Grail selected him as a master and summoned Gilles de Rais—whom he knew as Bluebeard—in the Caster class to be his servant.
Since that fateful night, the heinously well-matched master and servant had kidnapped dozens of young women and children throughout the city. They tortured some in pursuit of ever more creative and dynamic deaths, sacrificed others to summon the flesh-eating tentacle monsters Caster commanded, and occasionally—Ryuunosuke always sighed regretfully when this happened—straight-up murdered one when Caster's temper erupted. Still, Ryuunosuke never held his new friend's mood swings against him for long. The big guy's volatility notwithstanding, Bluebeard was the coolest person Ryuunosuke had ever met and was helping him take his study of death to new, previously unattainable extremes.
Case in point? His latest creation made in obscene homage to Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man. Thanks to Caster's life-extending magic, Ryuunosuke had succeeded in surgically dismembering a twin boy and girl down their vertical axes without killing them. He'd then stitched each twin's half to its opposite-gendered counterpart, and, with extra arms and legs provided by the children who'd shared a cage with the twins, attached additional limbs in positions that mirrored the famous sketch. With his inspiration still running hot, Ryuunosuke had followed up with a profane allusion to Christ's crucifixion by nailing each of his artistic subjects to two diagonal crosses facing each other. The big guy was sure to love that! And with the hocus-pocus paralyzing their bodies, each horrifically joined twin could do nothing but watch its other joined half in awful understanding of the impossible atrocity that had been committed upon them as death, with painfully slow cruelty, claimed them.
"Life truly is wonderful," Ryuunosuke remarked with unsettling sincerity as he stepped back and admired his gruesome handiwork. He stood there for several minutes appraisingly, taking in every detail of his victims' agony and terror. Finally satisfied, he set down his bloody scalpel on a nearby workbench and, whistling a jaunty tune, walked around Caster's lair to compare his other depraved works of art against his latest. There were over a dozen of these unfortunate souls put on display with the remorseless brazenness of men without conscience, and there were many more who had once been showcased before being taken down once Caster's magic reached its limit and they finally expired. Ryuunosuke had been so excited during his first few days with Caster that he'd foolishly not taken photos for a portfolio, but he'd wised up since and bought a camera. He knew he'd never forget this, but it was important to preserve his work so that it could inspire someone else someday. After all, it would be horribly selfish of him to keep all this to himself!
Ryuunosuke suddenly felt an otherworldly pressure as the air seemed to thicken and press against him, and he let out a light-hearted, welcoming laugh as he turned to greet the returned Bluebeard.
"Hey big guy, welcome ba—Whoa! Had a rough night, I take it?" the orange-haired sadist asked sympathetically as Caster materialized in a hazy shroud of caliginous purple light. The Servant of the Spell's muddy black robe was torn and he held his left hand tightly against the bleeding stump where his right hand used to be. Most tellingly, though, was the livid expression on Caster's face, and Ryuunosuke knew immediately that someone had seriously pissed off his friend.
"Stay cool, Bluebeard. I've got this! There's a med kit around here somewhere, so if you wait a minute I'll have bandages ready for you in no time. Just—"
Caster ignored Ryuunosuke completely and lurched over to the two twins his master had spent the better part of the night surgically dismantling and reassembling. His black eyes too furious to appreciate the artistry on display, Caster reached for the wrist of one of the extra arms and, in a single sickeningly smooth jerk, tore the hand off. He then roughly shoved the child's hand on top of his own bleeding limb and turned to his grimoire, which had taken to the air in front of him and obligingly flipped its pages to the spell its owner sought. Caster wasted no time in chanting the arcane verses, eldritch words whose discordant sounds produced an effect not unlike nails scraping against a chalkboard, and a defiled blue light materialized silhouetting his entire upper right arm. When the halo faded a few seconds later, the child's right hand had been reshaped in a mimicry of his own and flowed naturally into his wrist as if it had always been there. Caster flexed his new hand experimentally as Ryuunosuke watched, frowning.
"...What the hell, big guy? I thought we talked about this," Ryuunouske scolded as he shook his head disapprovingly. "Look, I know you get angry. We all do! But anger doesn't solve anything, man, and if you let it blind you you'll totally miss the awesome opportunities out there! Case in point? The children in the cages we're saving for later. You could've grabbed spare body parts from one of them and freshened the rest up for their upcoming time in the spotlight with a little extra terror, but instead you lashed out and ruined something truly beautiful!"
"Hm?" Caster muttered in surprise, turning to face Ryuunosuke as if just noticing his master's presence. When he did, though, all traces of anger vanished from his face as manic excitement rushed in to replace it. "Ah, Ryuunosuke! I'm so glad you're here. Tonight didn't go as planned, but that doesn't matter at all now for I have seen the vilest desecration imaginable! The foulest of heresies and the wickedest of forbidden magic! And I have been inspired to surpass it!"
"Oh man, that sounds totally cool!" Ryuunosuke exclaimed eagerly, his earlier irritation forgotten as he rubbed his two hands together in gleeful anticipation. "Just say the word, and I'll go and grab whatever and whomever you need. And, uh, does this mean we're back to quality over quantity?" he asked with unmistakable hopefulness in his tone.
"Yes...and no," Caster answered, his voice nearly breathless with exhilaration as he visualized his next crime against God. "You might call what I'm about to do...experimental art, I think the modern term is?...and we'll need numbers to achieve the greatest effect."
Ryuunosuke shrugged nonchalantly, doing his best to hide his disappointment. "If you say so, big guy. I suppose that's the price we pay for being avant-garde. I'll go put on some clothes without bloodstains and get more kids for you."
"Excellent, Ryuunosuke! Truly, you are a wise and understanding soul," Caster commended him as he placed his two hands on his master's shoulders gratefully. "Trust me, you will be amazed when you see what I have in mind. Amazed and astounded! It'll be a sin without peer, a deed so disgusting and revolting that the heavens will weep and Jeanne will finally realize that God is a cruel, uncaring despot who doesn't deserve her love for permitting such an abominable atrocity to occur! So go, and return with as many children as you can gather before sunrise. The city is full of hateful philistines who can't appreciate our work and who'll try to stop us if we stay out too late."
The man who had been Gilles de Rais in life suddenly smiled maniacally and, releasing his master, opened his flesh-covered grimoire and turned its pages with feverish intensity.
"But soon...it'll be too late for them!" Caster vowed with demented glee. "The greatest sin will also be the ultimate upset, and the many iniquities we've committed thus far will seem like pleasant daydreams in comparison! May our enemies enjoy their sleep tonight, for it'll be the last peaceful respite they have!"
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Kariya feverishly drifted in and out of consciousness, his convulsing body wracked by excruciating agony greater than any even he had thought possible after suffering for more than a year with the accursed Matou crest worms embedded in his flesh. Images of his life flashed before his eyes—Zouken looking down at him, a cruel and merciless sneer on the old man's shriveled face as he made terrible plans for the future; his older brother Byakuya and himself when they were both children, running in the park in the sun and daring to imagine they might someday also run away from the Matou legacy; his first meeting with Aoi, whose kindness and beauty had never dimmed in his eyes despite the many years that had passed since then; the day he finally left Fuyuki and the nervous fear that had nearly paralyzed him until the bus departed the city without the old man materializing to drag him back; the unremarkable but contented life he had lived as a freelance writer as he tried to make a future himself without having any idea what that future should be; Aoi again, still beautiful but now also heartbreakingly sad; his return to the Matou estate and desperate bargain with Zouken; the year of hell as he underwent Zouken's horrific training; and finally, more prominently than anything else, Sakura's hopeless yet immeasurably precious face.
That last image was all Kariya needed. No matter how great the pain, no matter how broken his body, he could endure anything if it was for Sakura's sake. Slowly, with herculean effort, he mustered his willpower and reclaimed a tiny measure of control just barely sufficient to stop the damned insects inside him from completely eating him alive. His agony didn't remit in the slightest, though, and in certain respects even worsened as it became more focused. Kariya's tormented mind screamed and his thoughts were like cacophonous fires, and in this blazing inferno he caught sight of a memory that was not his own. He saw—
A subway station at night, illuminated by somber electric lights that cast innumerable shadows. A familiar blue-haired girl in a tan middle school uniform sat by herself in a row of chairs overlooking the rail tracks. A glowing billboard stood behind the girl, whose head was downcast and whose hands were clasped together dispiritedly on her lap. Save for the soft electrical hum and the girl's quiet breathing, everything was silent and, it seemed to Kariya, waiting with a sense of dread expectation for what would happen next.
"Finally! I found you at last."
The female voice was new to Kariya and came from a red-haired girl who looked to be about the same age as Sayaka. The stranger was slightly shorter than his servant and wore a teal-colored, partly zipped jacket that left her navel exposed and a pair of scandalously short shorts. Her long hair was wild and unkempt, trailing down to her waist and tied back by a black ribbon. The crimson tresses moved sinuously back and forth as the girl walked over to Sayaka with a self-assured, ne'er-do-well swagger contrasted by the poorly hidden concern visible in her matching red eyes. With feigned nonchalance, the new arrival sat down beside his servant, reached into her pockets, and pulled out a tube of potato chips.
"So, how much longer are you going to do the stubborn thing, huh?" the redhead complained as she popped the tube's lid and raised the container to her mouth so she could devour the chips with gusto.
"I'm sorry if I caused you any trouble," Sayaka answered in a spiritless voice that sent chills down Kariya's spine. He knew that voice; it was the same hopeless tone Sakura spoke in these days, and it was completely at odds with the passionate heroic spirit he'd spent the past week with.
The redhead mirrored his thoughts as she reached for another chip and turned slightly to regard her companion. "Seriously? That doesn't sound like you at all."
Sayaka's gaze remained lowered as she answered in the same languid, disheartened voice as before, seemingly only a step away from anguished hysteria. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I just don't care anymore. I can't even remember what I thought was so important, so worth protecting...None of it makes sense anymore."
The red-haired girl's eyes narrowed in uncertainty as she popped another chip into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. She was clearly at a loss, not having expected this and not knowing what to say to comfort the distraught girl beside her, and she searched in vain for words.
"Hey, c'mon..."
Sayaka didn't give her time to find them. The despondent girl lifted a hand to reveal the soul gem clutched in her lap, and—instead of its normal dazzling azure—the arcane jewel was nearly pitch black with only a few scattered motes of blue flickering faintly in its watery depths. The redhead no longer made any effort to hide her concern when she caught sight of the tainted orb, gasping and rearing back in alarm. Sayaka, though, droned on morosely, as if it didn't matter. As if nothing mattered at all.
"Balance means good and bad have to zero themselves out, right? That's what you said...or something like it. I think I understand what you mean now...The good thing is, I did save a few people. But the bad thing is, I got angrier and my heart filled up with envy and hate. So much so that I even hurt my dearest friend."
The sheer sadness in Sayaka's voice as she said these words was heartbreaking, as if her sorrow was a well with no bottom and she was a discarded rock sinking deeper and deeper into its depths. Her companion reacted with horror.
"Sayaka! You didn't—?!"
The blue-haired girl ignored the panicked exclamation, ignored the speaker, ignored everything except her own grief and self-hatred as she lifted her soul gem closer to her broken heart.
"For all the happiness you wish for someone, someone else gets cursed with equal misery," she concluded with tragic finality. "That's how it works for magical girls, and that's how it is for me."
A sob escaped Sayaka's lips, and she finally raised her head and turned to look at the red-haired girl who'd searched for her. The expression on her face was one of complete and utter despair, and tears welled up in her eyes and trailed heavily down her checks. One tear landed on her soul gem, and the last twinkling glimmer of blue light died.
"I was stupid...so stupid."
For a single second, the world seemed to stand still as Kariya felt something indescribably precious break, and then Sayaka's soul gem erupted with power. Dark blue, ghostly white, and unfathomably black light burst out of the jewel in a wild torrent of kaleidoscopic colors as raging winds howled and hurled the red-haired girl back through the air. She yelled her friend's name as the torrent carried her away but to no avail. The body of the girl who had been Sayaka Miki fell lifelessly to the ground before it, too, was caught in the same storm.
And yet, the power pouring out of the soul gem continued to intensify until the soul gem itself shattered. In its place, a gray and black sphere etched with alien runes floated high into the air and pulsed with a forlorn darkness that swept over everything and plunged all that Kariya could see into night, except that this night chilled the soul and had substance like water at the bottom of the ocean. Flashes of blue and white light exploded and fizzled around him as images of people and places appeared and disappeared far too quickly for him to make out in the darkness, and then, from deep within the inky depths, the helmed silhouette of a malevolent giant took shape and rose. The monstrous titan grew larger and larger as it ascended and then, impossibly, it turned to look at him. It reached out with a gauntleted fist and—
"Gaaah!" Kariya screamed as the end of a wooden cane came down hard on his extended right arm, waking him from the nightmare to confront another. Standing in front of him and looking scornfully amused was the second to last man Kariya ever wanted to see.
"Congratulations, Kariya," Zouken commented in a cruelly amused tone. "It's a few hours past midnight and, technically, day seven of the Grail War, and you're not dead. For someone as inept and idiotic as you, that's quite the accomplishment."
"Sh-shut up," Kariya retorted hatefully, forcing himself through sheer force of will to ignore the pain coursing through his body and look up at the monster in the shape of a decrepit old man. He attempted to stand, but no sooner had he risen to a crouch then another convulsion overtook him and he collapsed. His flesh twisted as the crest worms squirmed underneath his skin, desperately gorging themselves on his flesh to produce magical energy that was just as desperately consumed by his servant. Berserker was a distant presence in his mind, far away and unconscious, but she might as well have been standing directly behind him stabbing a sword through his back for all the agony their contract was now putting him through. And as though to drive home that point, his left arm suddenly spasmed as the parasites inside him once again chewed apart the tendons and reduced the limb to paralysis. Kariya barely managed to lift his face off the ground with his one remaining good arm before he hacked up blood, bile, and scores of ravenous insects.
"Perhaps I spoke too soon?" the Matou patriarch mocked as he grinned sadistically. "That's disgusting, and at the rate you're holding up, Kariya, you might make this old man look good in comparison shortly."
Kariya ignored the insult. He couldn't hold his own in banter against Zouken at the best of times, and, with his head pounding like a locomotive engine and his body in worse shape than the national economy, this was about as far from the best of times as he could possibly get.
"Wh-what d-do you want, y-you old worm?!"
Cruel smile still on his face, Zouken shook his wrinkled head in admonishment. "Temper, temper, Kariya. It's not good for your health...or what remains of it, anyway. Besides, why the surprise? Surely you didn't believe I wouldn't pay you a visit after the feat your servant nearly performed last night?"
At the confused expression on Kariya's face, Zouken's smile reversed itself and he sighed in contempt. "Honestly, are you trying to undershoot my already abysmal expectations for you, Kariya? Sakura's future is bright indeed if that's the case!"
"D-don't you d-dare bring her in-into this!" Kariya shouted before heaving again as his stomach churned. Groaning, he wiped the vomit off his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket and glared up at his tormentor. "J-just what's so...so important a-bo-bout last night, an-anyway?"
Had he not already been lying prone on the ground, the force of Zouken's withering gaze might have knocked him down. With difficulty, he racked his hazy memories of last night to figure out what the old man was talking about. He...he remembered his servant desperately fighting Caster's horrific minions alone, and then...what he recalled next was more a tortured stream of consciousness than coherent narrative as Berserker's energy uptake spiked with her Mad Enhancement. Searing agony had engulfed his entire body as the crest worms struggled to sustain her, and he'd barely managed to hang onto consciousness let alone concentrate. But then Berserker's energy uptake spiked further and then even further until he'd feared she'd drain him dry and...there was nothing after that, only blackness and...the distant sound of violin music?
Zouken sighed again and leaned down heavily against his cane. "I'm almost tempted not to say anything now, but even if you're the same hopeless idiot you've always been your servant, at least, has shown unexpected promise."
For just a moment, the centuries of built-up scorn and cruelty disappeared from Zouken's gaunt, shriveled face, and Kariya saw the full five hundred years of ruthless determination and merciless intellect that animated the ancient magus. He shuddered at the sight, his very soul protesting the existence of the abomination in front of him. If Zouken noticed, he paid it no heed.
"Your servant possesses a reality marble, Kariya," the Matou patriarch explained in the condescending tones of a teacher lecturing a stupid child. "That's borderline sorcery and is all but impossible, even for a servant and especially for one of the Berserker class. The 'fog of turmoil and chaos' that afflicts her mind renders mere coherent thought a wonder in itself, and the capacity to project her internal mental world upon reality should be unfathomable. And yet your servant can do both...and seemingly kept you in the dark about this miraculous noble phantasm of hers. Tell me, Kariya, just how much do you truly know about this Berserker you summoned?"
Kariya looked up at Zouken angrily as the old man's contemptuous sneer returned. "That's n-none of y-your business!"
"Oh? Perhaps it isn't," Zouken answered with false graciousness, his malicious smirk revealing his true feelings. "But as a veteran of the Holy Grail Wars, let me give you a piece of advice. The servants have their own motives independent of the wishes of their masters, and they are perfectly capable of manipulating, deceiving, and even betraying their masters despite the command seals. Indeed, one could even say that the command seals incentivize the servants to deceive their masters, since direct opposition is so easily countered. Trusting your servant without even knowing what she's fighting for is idiotic, even for you. And if you are to have more than the faint ghost of a chance of winning you currently just barely possess, it behooves you to learn who your servant is and what she is truly capable of. Another surprise like last night could kill you...and then what would happen to dear Sakura, I wonder?"
Zouken laughed mockingly as Kariya reared up unsteadily and lunged at him in a blind rage. He didn't bother side-stepping and instead let his body disperse into the hundreds of insects that comprised it. They chittered in malicious unison as Kariya passed harmlessly through the swarm and collapsed on the ground, his flesh twisting and his veins throbbing again as the crest worms inside him reacted to his fury.
"I did warn you about your temper," Zouken taunted in a hundred droning, high-pitched sounds that somehow synchronized to form words. The younger Matou nearly screamed but, instead, he clenched his teeth and brought the force of his desperate willpower down to suppress his anger. The swarm that was Zouken buzzed in amusement.
"Heh. As much as it pains me to offer you any praise at all, Kariya, your capacity to suffer is quite remarkable...but I suppose everyone possesses at least one talent."
"G-g-go away," Kariya rasped resentfully between ragged breaths as he struggled to bring his body under control. Zouken watched him intently for several more moments from hundreds of eyes, seemingly enjoying Kariya's wretchedness, before the swarm began to fly off.
"If you insist. I do have another training session for Sakura to oversee," the ancient magus answered in an increasingly quiet but no less cruel voice as the swarm dispersed. "But do take my advice to heart, Kariya. Your servant may have the appearance of a young girl with a zeal for justice, but an unassuming exterior can hide the vilest of humanity. Trust me—this is something I know intimately well."
Kariya didn't say anything as the host of insects continued to depart. Instead, he groaned and nursed his anger, furious at Zouken for everything he'd said and done...and at himself, for being forced to acknowledge that Zouken was right despite it all.
Damn it!, he cursed, knowing there was nothing else for him to do until Berserker woke up and they finally had the talk he'd been postponing for the past week, which now seemed to have been a week too long.
Berserker...I don't know how many secrets you've been keeping from me, but when you wake up you'd better have some helluva good answers!
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The curtains were closed in the spare bedroom of Kayneth's hotel suite, but Sola-Ui still noticed when the room slowly brightened as the first rays of dawn filtered through the heavy beige fabrics. She yawned once, tiredly, having gone the whole night without sleep, and leaned over the bed one more time to examine its comatose, blue-haired occupant. From the other side of the bed, a third person watched everything with sad orange eyes.
"Berserker will be fine, Lancer," Sola-Ui assured the Irish heroic spirit as she looked up at him with a lingering gaze. "She consumed more magical energy than her master could support and collapsed from magic deprivation, but, with my help—" The redhead made a hand gesture to indicate the crimson magic circle inscribed on the floor surrounding the bed, which had been pulled out from the wall. "—she's now receiving a steady stream of magical energy and is no longer in any danger of fading away. You did the right thing in bringing her to me so quickly. It's only a matter of time now before Berserker recovers and wakes up."
Lancer nodded his head gratefully, and Sola-Ui returned her gaze to the Servant of Madness's prone form to hide her flushed cheeks. It was of the utmost importance that Diarmuid see her as a capable professional right now and not as a lovesick girl—her plans depended on it!
"Thank you, Mistress Sola-Ui. To know that at least one life was saved last night...I will be forever grateful to you. However, I have failed in my most important duty as a knight, and that is unforgivable. Because of my shortcomings, you have lost your fiancé."
The grief in Lancer's voice pained Sola-Ui, and she experienced a flash of anger at Kayneth for putting him in such pain. It figured the idiot would still be a nuisance after his death!
"This isn't your fault, Lancer!" she rushed to comfort him, standing up and barely stopping herself from running over to him and clasping his strong hands in hers. "You were only following Kayneth's orders, and if anyone is responsible for what happened it's him. He's the one who insisted on a direct confrontation with the Magus Killer despite your protests and being fully aware of Emiya's reputation. Kayneth brought this upon himself!"
Lancer turned and regarded her sorrowfully. "As a knight, I am sworn to serve and defend my lord regardless of the wisdom of his decisions. Master Kayneth entrusted me with defeating Saber, and I failed to do that and return to him in his moment of need. His death rests on my shoulders, and my shoulders alone, and a knight who cannot protect his lord has no place in a war."
The black-haired servant's orange eyes briefly focused on the two command seals on the back of Sola-Ui's right hand, and then he lowered his head solemnly. "Mistress Sola-Ui, Master Kayneth loved you dearly, and the only thing I can do now to honor him is to ensure your safety. Once Berserker has recovered, please travel to the Kotomine Church and relinquish your command seals and rights as a master, and then leave Fuyuki. I will let myself fade away so as to—"
"No," Sola-Ui interrupted, her svelte voice firm. "Abandoning the Grail War is the last thing I'll do." She held up her command seals proudly. "As a servant, you physically manifest in this world using my magical energy, and now I also have the command seals. The Holy Grail has chosen me as a master. As your master, and I have not given you the command to withdraw from the battlefield."
"Before I am a servant of the Grail War, I am first and foremost a knight," Lancer spoke firmly, his penetrating gaze remaining respectfully lowered. "And a knight can only serve—"
"Look me in the eyes when you speak!" Sola-Ui interrupted Lancer again, her desire to see his face getting the better of her. Knowing this, and knowing that this was not the way to win the Irish knight over, she forced herself to appear calm and focused her thoughts on the scheme she'd been plotting ever since learning of her fiancé's less than tragic demise.
"If you are truly loyal to Kayneth and wish to atone for his death, then fight beside me and help me win the Holy Grail," Sola-Ui pleaded earnestly. "Only a miracle can bring someone back from the dead, and that is exactly what the Holy Grail grants the winner—a miracle! If you're feeling responsible for all this...if you desire to give Kayneth back his life...then you must win the Holy Grail with me."
Lancer was silent for a long moment, and Sola-Ui felt the full weight of his brooding, pensive gaze on her. It thrilled her and made her weak in the knees, but she maintained her composure through sheer willpower and the allure of the future she wanted with him.
"Mistress Sola-Ui," Lancer said at last, his tone cautious as he watched her closely, "do you say this as Master Kayneth's fiancée and seek the Holy Grail only on his behalf? Will you swear to it?"
The red-haired magus couldn't completely suppress her grin at hearing these words, knowing as she did that her plan had succeeded, but she tried anyway.
"Y-yes, of course," she answered quickly, eager to finalize the arrangement. "So long as you stay by my side and protect me, then, as the fiancée of Lord Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald, I vow to win the Holy Grail so that we can resurrect him."
Yes, together we'll win the Grail and you'll use your wish to bring Kayneth back to life, Sola-Ui thought gleefully to herself as Lancer slowly nodded his head in acquiescence. Your honor won't permit anything else...but that still leaves my own wish, and there's nothing I want more than your heart, Lancer. Soon...very soon now, we'll be together as we should, and I will make you forget all your pain and grief. I promise.
Lancer, for his part, expressed neither joy nor sorrow as he agreed to serve his late master's wife; instead, if anything, he appeared resigned. He recognized the look in Sola-Ui's eyes, he knew history was repeating itself, and he understood that, just as before with Grainne, fate was too cruel to let it happen any other way. And yet, he did not—could not—hate and curse the tragic spinning of destiny's wheels that produced these outcomes; he was who he was, Grainne and Fionn had been who they had been, and Kayneth and Sola-Ui were who they were. Being false to yourself was a far worse fate, and he would not fault anyone for following their heart. He simply wished that the powers that be would let him be true to himself without that truth always leading, seemingly inevitably, to the same tragedy.
With a quiet sigh, he turned his head to glance at the unconscious Berserker and ruefully hoped that her dreams, at least, weren't as troubled as his own waking thoughts. They had much to do and discuss when she awoke, and this might be the last chance to rest she had for many nights to come.
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Sayaka Miki sat by herself and leaned listlessly against the interior wall of the moving metro train as the coruscating black and white nightscape of Mitakihara passed by in the expansive window behind her. Her face was half-covered in shadow, but the melancholy she felt came across clearly in her lethargic expression and matched the lugubrious mood of her colorless surroundings.
"Do you want to talk about it?" a kind female voice asked her comfortingly, and Sayaka slowly turned her head to face the young and familiar pink-haired girl standing nearby who had not been there seconds ago.
"...Are you real, or a figment of my imagination?" Sayaka asked wearily, her tone haggard and dismal.
Madoka shrugged and moved to sit down across from her, smoothing out the folds in her middle school uniform as she did so.
"Does it matter?"
Sayaka was silent for a moment, watching her new companion guardedly, and then she chuckled sadly.
"No, I guess it doesn't. So, here to give your best friend another pep talk after her latest failure?" she asked with a weak grin, trying and failing to inject humor into her self-deprecation.
"The thought crossed my mind," Madoka admitted with a weak but sincere smile of her own, her voice devoid of the blame and disappointment Sayaka believed she deserved and but also feared. "But I figured you'd appreciate a chat with a friend more."
"...What, afraid I'll get super psyched up and go out Mototada Torii style if I hear some words of encouragement right now?" Sayaka joked wryly, her features crooked, before dropping the facade with a miserable sigh. Placing her head in her hands, she slumped forward wretchedly.
"I did it again, y'know. Got so caught up in a fight and my own stupid anger that I became blind to everything else and hurt someone I wanted to protect," she confided in a distressed tone. "Matou nearly died because of the strain I put him through, and, had Lancer not shown up when he did, I'm super sure he would have dropped dead when I summoned my-summoned Oktavia's labyrinth. I'd fade away not long after that, and the person we're both fighting for—Sakura—would remain trapped in Zouken's horrible care for the rest of her life."
Sayaka grit her teeth at that last admission, feeling a surge of anger and hatred aimed at someone other than herself, and then she looked up at her friend with pained blue eyes.
"I know you wanted to give me a second chance and all, but I think you mighta been better off sending someone else. I always seem to mess up this whole hero thing."
In response, Madoka stood, walked over to her suffering friend, and placed a hand on Sayaka's left shoulder. She then leaned forward so that they were at eye-level—compassionate pink gazing into agonized ocean blue—and gave her friend's shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
"I know two people who could easily have said the same thing not too long ago, and one of them is me," Madoka said softly, her voice quieting in reminiscence. "How many times did I see my friends die, one after another, despite my best efforts to save them? How many times did I throw my life away fighting Walpurgisnacht only to become something even more terrible in the aftermath? How many times did Homura try to save me only to make things worse? The two of us made a disastrous mess of things too, but we never stopped trying and eventually managed to get it right."
Sayaka wanted to say, sullenly, Yeah, but that was you. She wanted to tell Madoka how much of a better person Madoka was and how, unlike herself, Madoka had never lost her capacity to feel compassion and never forgotten her desire to help her friends even when drowning in despair. She wanted to tell Madoka that she didn't deserve her faith, that she was a failure who always died in the end, that—
Madoka's pink pupils briefly flashed golden and silenced Sayaka's objections. Within those eyes, on the other side, there were worlds upon worlds and soul upon soul upon soul in numbers Sayaka's mortal mind couldn't begin to fathom. At the same time, though, there was also the awe-inspiring, absolute understanding of someone who had not only known Sayaka for her entire life but also knew her entire life.
"It's true—you aren't me, and you don't have a friend who can rewind time back to the beginning until you succeed, but that's not what matters," Madoka, goddess, girl, and friend, spoke soothingly as she wrapped Sayaka in a warm hug and rested her face against the side of Sayaka's head. "What matters is that both you and Matou are still alive, and as long as you're alive there's hope. You can still get back up and move forward. It won't be easy; there are difficult apologies to deliver, and you'll make more mistakes in the future, just like we all do, but that's life, and if there's something you truly believe in and want to accomplish then it's absolutely worth it. Or at least that's what I think, and I also think that the girl I've known since elementary school—the same girl who cares so much and fights so hard for two strangers she didn't even know existed a week ago—can become the hero she wants to be. She just needs to be honest with herself and never lose sight of the noble desires in her heart."
As she finished, the train slowed and then halted as it reached its next destination, and with a quiet mechanical hiss the doors slid open.
"I believe this is your stop," Madoka announced, giving her friend one more gentle squeeze of support before letting go and standing back. "So, what are you going to do?"
In answer, Sayaka rolled her eyes and smiled wanly. Her expression was still clouded and gloomy, but now there seemed to be some actual mirth on her face.
"I thought you said you didn't come to give a pep talk?"
Madoka shrugged again and pouted cutely.
"That's not precisely what I said..."
"Ha! Well, if that's the attitude you're going to take, then make sure I'm around if you ever square off against Kyubey. It'd be super awesome to see that white furball receive a dose of his own medicine for a change."
Collecting herself, Sayaka rose to her feet and headed for the exit. Before she departed, though, she turned her head back and shot Madoka a grateful look.
"Thanks, by the way. I don't know how you're doing this, but I'm glad you came. You've always had a way of putting things in perspective for me, even when I'm being an idiot and forgetting the totally obvious, and I super appreciate it."
Madoka answered with a beatific smile.
"That's what friends are for. And remember, no matter how far away you are or how desperate the situation you find yourself in, you're never alone. I'll always be with you, watching."
Hearing those final words of reassurance, Sayaka looked ahead, stepped off the train, and woke up.
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Author's Notes: Chapter 5, Part 2, is now Chapter 6. Renaming it keeps the numbering scheme consistent and acknowledges that, even though it was originally conceived as part of Chapter 5, it is its own distinct installment.
Anyway, for those who are wondering how long this fan fic will be, this chapter loosely marks the beginning of the second third of the story and begins Act III. The first three chapters (plus the prologue) comprise Act I, and Chapters 4, 5, and 6 make up Act II. My current outline calls for five acts with 15 to 18 cumulative chapters and an epilogue, although all of this is tentative and subject to change. I usually lose the war against chapter bloat when I write fan fiction, and unplanned scenes (such as Madoka's inclusion here, which came completely out of left field) continue to interpose themselves into the story.
Regardless, those who have been reading this story and are sticking with it despite the slow updating pace have my thanks for their interest and patience, and I hope the tale continues to please and impress. Your feedback means a lot to me, so please feel free to share your thoughts.
