Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu (PMMM / Dark Souls)
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Rekindling - 1
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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First of all, blame @Stewart92 for this, he put me up to it. Any and all complaints should be sent to his address. With that out of the way, opening chapter, then some words from yours truly to answer some questions, yes? Let's dive in.
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Rekindling - 1Your eyes snap open as you awaken with a gasp, your body veering upright while your hands reach up to clutch at your throat for some reason. Your heart is beating wild and your breath comes in panicky, desperate fast gasps. Sweat trickles down your brow, caused by the irrational, overwhelming sense of fear that fills your entire being. You look around with wide, wild eyes, trying to spot the danger that has to be the source of all this dread.
It takes a while for it to settle in that there is no danger anywhere you can see. Even longer for you to realise that you have no idea where you are.
You are sitting in a field of soft grass and that's about all you can tell, for anything beyond a stone throw's radius of where you are is shrouded by a thick, impenetrable fog. At first you think this fog is the reason for your distress, that you fear the things that might be hiding within the mist, but the longer you stare into it, the more you realise this is not the case. Strange as it might seem, the fog does not feel threatening to you and you are somehow certain that there is nothing in there waiting to pounce on you.
Slowly, as time passes on during which nothing happens, your breathing and body settle down as the panic fades. It would seem that for the moment you are safe and out of immediate danger. Now that you are no longer preoccupied with survival, your mind is free to turn to other matters, such as where you are or how you came to be here.
You pull your knees to your chest and hug them. Bowing your head and closing your eyes, you dive into your memory in search of answers. What is the last thing you remember?
You are Tomoe Mami. A veteran magical girl living in Mitakihara and you were… What were you doing? You recall Kaname Madoka came to get you, something about a grief seed? You frown, rubbing your temples as you push your mind harder. You went with Madoka to Sayaka, then entered a barrier to fight a Witch. The frown on your face deepens. Was Akemi Homura there as well? It's all so unclear, like watching a movie that has gaps in the filmstrip.
Regardless of whether or not the other magical girl was present, you do remember fighting the witch's minions and feeling elated because Madoka had declared to you her intentions to become a magical girl as well and fight at your side, meaning you wouldn't be alone anymore. Then you fought the Witch, a little doll thing and then… and then… What then?
You focus as hard as you can on the memory of the Witch. A brief image of teeth flashes through your mind for some reason, before pain explodes in your head, making you wince. You remember a feeling of incomprehensibly immense, primal fear, the same fear you felt when you woke up, then… darkness.
Instinctively, your hands reach for your soul gem, only to find that it isn't there.
A cold feeling of dread settles in the pit of your stomach. A glance at your clothes reveals that you're wearing your school uniform. Your soul gem is missing. Your last memories are of fighting a Witch, without remembering defeating it, a flash of pain and fear and then nothing, after which you woke up in a strange field shrouded in fog. Almost as if you di-
No.
No no no.
NonononononoNONONONONO!!!
Your eyes are wide in panic, your pupils shrunken into tiny pinpricks. You struggle to breathe, your chest constricted painfully as if held in a vice grip, your lungs burning as your body is starting to hyperventilate but you can't breathe and you're not getting any air and it just makes you panic even more and more and this can't be happening-!
A gentle, soothing melody fills the air.
Effortlessly it breaks through the panicked haze that clouds your mind and suddenly you can breathe again. You find yourself enraptured by the music, compelled to simply sit back and listen, which you do without even the slightest hint of resistance. Your eyes fall shut again as you let yourself drift along with the melody.
It is a calming, simple in structure yet rich with powerful emotion. It feels soothing to your very soul yet there is an unmistakable undertone of sorrow to it as well. You can feel it, as unmistakable as you can feel your own sorrow and grief. The music reverberates with your heart, touches you into your deepest self as it wordlessly sings a song of mourning. There is no bitterness, no regret, only acceptance and lamenting of the grief that comes with living.
A song of healing. Healing for the soul.
You don't know how long you sit there, lost within that beautiful sound, but when you open your eyes again you feel calm once more, the panic and nausea that had threatened to overwhelm you having been gently washed away.
You climb to your feet and turn yourself in the direction the music is coming from. You stare into the fog, as if trying to make it part through sheer force of will, but your vision remains as obfuscated as before. Still the music plays and you feel an urge within you to find where it is coming from, like the sound is a hand that beckons you to follow. In any other circumstances, you might have been suspicious of something beautiful but unknown luring you into a thick mist that could be hiding all kinds of danger, but somehow in this case you do not feel wary.
Perhaps that in itself could be seen as alarming, but you ignore it and step into the fog.
Time loses all meaning within the mist, with the music slowly growing louder being the only way to tell that you are actually making progress. So it comes as somewhat of a surprise when you suddenly find yourself in a clearing, standing at the edge of what appears to be a ruin of sorts.
Once it must have been a great, magnificent building, but now all that remains is a circle of stones amidst the grass with a few remaining crumbling walls and pieces of masonry scattered across the field. A tall bonfire burns in the middle of the circle, its orange flames dancing merrily and bathing the clearing in a warm, inviting light. A fallen pillar lies next to the fire, upon which sits a lonely figure.
It is a woman, with long silvery white hair and dressed in a long white robe, simple but elegant in its design, with golden filigree, and a light grey cloak draped over her shoulders. Her face is delicate, her skin smooth and peerless, but her eyes are hidden behind an ornate golden band that spans her head. In her hands she holds a harp, her fingers plucking the strings with all the confidence and finesse of a master harpist, creating the melody that has guided you here.
For a moment you simply stare at the sight, your feet seemingly rooted in place. Of all the things you had expected to find, this was not one of them and you are unsure of how to react. The woman doesn't seem to have noticed you - you aren't even sure if she can see you with that gold band covering her eyes - and keeps playing her harp, the music more clear and beautiful to your ears than ever now that you are at its source.
You wonder what to do next. The bonfire looks warm and inviting, but you are wary of the woman's presence. Harmless though she seems, experience has taught you that appearances can be most deceiving, as your most recent brush with a Witch so kindly reminded you.
You are still debating on your course of action, when the woman at the fire suddenly raises her head and looks right at you. The music fades as her fingers stop caressing the harp strings.
"Thou'st met with a terrible fate, hast thou not?"
You find your hands clutching your throat again in unbidden response to these words. You swallow hard and feel a shiver run down your spine. Suddenly, the fire no longer looks so warm or inviting.
The woman gives you a genuine apologetic smile. "Fear not, I mean thee no harm." She places her harp in her lap, moves somewhat to the side of the pillar she sits on, then gestures at the spot she just vacated. "Come, weary soul, warm thineself at the fire."
You hesitate, but only briefly, for you can detect no deception in her words nor in her voice. You enter the ruins, alert but not wary, and take place next to the woman on the pillar. The warmth of the fire washes over you and seems to soothe you much the same way the music did earlier.
Together, you and the woman sit in amicable silence for a while, content to simply bask in the light of the flames.
Eventually, however, you find that your many questions cannot go unanswered any longer. You turn your head to the woman.
"Who are you?" you had to ask.
The woman gently pushes some of the bonfire's logs around. "I am both a memory and an idea. A firekeeper in dream and a dreamer in the fire. A tenant was I, once, of the first flame, but now I keep only the sparks that remain..." she muses, then gives you a long look. "Perhaps thou couldst draw more sparks, those lights lost in this darkness?"
You bow your head to stare at your hands. Nonsensical though the woman's words may sound, somehow you find meaning in them, confirmation of your suspicions as to your own nature. Unconsciously, your hands clutch around your throat again, as the memory of that dreadful, all encompassing fear flashes through your mind again.
"These sparks…" you begin. "They are people who… who d-died?"
The Keeper picks up her harp again, her fingers strumming idly amongst the strings. Only now that you are right next to her can you see that both her hands are burnt.
"They are… lost," is all she says.
You bite your lip. You are afraid to ask your next question, but you have to know.
"Am I… Am I dead?"
Your eyes are closed as you wait with growing dread and fear for the answer, so you are surprised when you feel a warm hand place itself atop your clenched fists. You open your eyes to see the Keeper staring at you, somehow, despite the headband that hides her eyes.
"I fear thou couldst not be here otherwise." She pats your hands. "I am sorry."
Your hands are trembling, no, your entire body is shaking.
"T-then… I'm really…" you begin, but words fail you and you can say no more. Now you understand why you could not remember anything that happened after you fought the Witch: because there was nothing to remember. You lost. You died. You, Tomoe Mami, killed by a Witch, somehow, after all those years, after all the times you warned and taught other magical girls to never underestimate their foes…
Your eyes widen in panic and you gasp. Madoka and Sayaka, they were there with you, weren't they? Meaning not only did they see you lose, see you die, but with you gone, there would have been nobody to protect them from the Witch! Unless somehow they got saved by someone else, that means your failure caused the death of two innocent girls that were not a part of this! You-
The music starts to play and the haze of pain and fear on your mind lifts once more.
You look to the side to see the Keeper has taken up her harp again. As her delicate fingers pluck at the strings, she keeps her gaze locked on you, hidden though it is behind her mask.
"Thou bearest a heavy burden," she says, sound sad and compassionate. "It pains me to see in one as young as thee, but more so it is the familiarity of it that makes my heart ache. The pain of regret, of dreams unfulfilled, of a life not lived…" The light of the bonfire makes the gold of her headband shimmer. "Tell me, child, dost thou desire to return? To live the days that were thy due, but ended before their time?"
You stare at the woman, uncomprehending. "R-return?" you stammer. "I'm… I'm dead!" You hesitate, uncertainty claiming you. With a small voice you add: "... aren't I?"
The Keeper stares into the fire, still playing her beautiful, mournful song.
"A long time ago, when my dream was still young, there came here another," she begins. "I remember him well, for he was most peculiar, but also most kind. I believe he was a merchant of some sorts, though my mind fails me as to his wares. I remember his laughter was warm, if somewhat strange to my ears…"
You stare at the Keeper, uncertain as to the relevance or meaning of this tale.
"More so than kind and peculiar, however, he was also very wise. Though I remember not how we came to speak of it, I recall one thing he said most clearly." She turns her head back to you. "He said that whenever a meeting taketh place, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting, as partings are wont to do, need not last forever..."
You frown, still failing to understand her meaning. Or rather, you understand it, and it is a beautiful sentiment to be sure, but you don't quite see how it applies to your current situation, and you tell her so.
"I can't just… decide to come back to life," you say, though for some reason you find doubt creeping into your words, as baffling as it seems. "That's not how it works."
The Keeper tilts her head again, thinking. "Is death not a parting?" she asks.
"In a sense," you admit.
"Then thou hast a choice. If thou feelest that thou hast been robbed of days rightfully thine, thou couldst seek to reclaim them, if thou art willing. But if thou art content with thy lot, or seekest thine grief and pain to cease, then that, too, is a path for thou to take."
"Content?" you repeat. "You mean, if I have no regrets? What would happen then?"
"Only that which thou desirest to happen," the Keeper replies. "Thou couldst remain here, a while or forever more, if thou so chosest. Or thou couldst go onward, to further beyond."
"And where would that take me?" you ask, almost automatically.
The Keeper gives you a knowing smile. "Further beyond."
You wait for her to elaborate, but she does not and you soon realise she never will. It seems that is one answer you will have to discover for yourself, but you are not certain you even want to. If you have no regrets, the Keeper said, but you have so many. So many things you still wanted to get done, so many things you still wanted to say. To your parents, to Kyubey, to Madoka and Sayaka…
To Kyoko.
You shake your head, even as tears run down your face. It hurts, to think about them, a pain that not even the mournful, soothing notes of the Keeper's harp can't ease. There is a way, however, the older woman told you that much. A way to make it stop, to shake off the regrets and the pain, alongside everything else weighing you down.
You're not sure you want that, though.
You don't want to forget, or to fade, or whatever it is that would happen. You want to go back, to fix it, to do all those things you regret not doing. But you can't. You're dead. You let your guard down and were punished for it. All because you were happy at the prospect of having someone by your side again.
"I just… I just didn't want to be alone anymore," you sob. "W-was that so wrong that I had to d-die?!"
The music fades as the Keeper puts down her harp again. She folds her hands in her lap, then turns to you with a most serious expression on her face.
"If thou couldst return, to take up thine life's thread from whence it was cut short… wouldst thou thou be willing, if given the chance?" she asks, for the second time.
You swallow hard as you think it over.
"I… I think so," is your answer. "But I don't see how-"
"If that be thine heart's desire," the Keeper interrupts you, "there is a proposal I would make to thee, a course of action thou couldst take that would be to our combined benefit, if thou wouldst be willing to lend me thine ear?"
You look up at the woman with a tearstained face, your blurred eyes suddenly warry. Intentional or not, the Keeper's words ring hauntingly familiar in your ears, and not in a good way. Unwillingly, memories you'd rather not relive are dredged up from within your mind, of an awful moment in your life when you were given a similar offer to cheat death. A moment that gained you a friend, but also regret you carried with you for the rest of your days.
Unconsciously, you find yourself backing away from the other woman.
"I apologise, I meant not to cause thee distress, child," the Keeper says upon noticing your reaction. She reaches out, slowly so as to not startle you, and gently places her hand atop of yours. "I spoke as I did merely because it is both my nature and purpose to provide aid and solace to lost souls such as thine. Whether or not thou wishest to accept my aid is entirely for thee to decide and I will not begrudge thee either way."
You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. She certainly sounds sincere and seems to genuinely want to help, but years of caution stemming from life as a magical girl keep you wary. You stare at her hand atop of your own, idly noting it feels warm and even comforting to the touch.
"You say you want to help me, if I make the choice to go back, but how?" you ask, as diplomatically as you can. "Who are you, exactly, that you can claim such a thing? What is this offer you would make me?"
The Keeper smiles at you warmly and gently squeezes your hand. "I told thee, I am memory and idea both. A firekeeper in dream and a dreamer in the fire. To me was given the charge to find and look after the sparks lost, and so I have. Now thou art here, a spark looking for aid, who desireth to return to a life ended too short."
She pats your hand one final time, then rises up from the fallen pillar. Only now do you notice that she is remarkably tall, though surprisingly you do not feel intimidated; her stature is one of welcoming and care, not one that threatens. You watch her move to the bonfire, then gasp when she puts both her hands into the flames without hesitation.
"I have found and tended what sparks I could find, but in truth there be more out there still, waiting to be found," the Keeper continues, before turning back to face you. You can see she is now holding a small but brightly glowing ember in the cup of her hands. "My heart longs to seek them out, but I could not leave the ones already gathered unattended. But now, perhaps, with thine aid, a chance presents itself that could fulfill our desires both?"
A frown forms on your face, your tears now dried up, as you look at the Keeper and the flame she holds in incomprehension.
"What… what are you asking of me?"
"I would offer thee my place at the fire, child," the Keeper replies. "Shouldst thou accept, I could leave into the mists, free to pursue the sparks whose cries for shelter are still unheard, and be at ease knowing those already found would be safe under thy watch in my absence."
The suggestion surprises and puzzles you in equal measure. "I don't understand," you admit. "I mean, I understand what you are asking and how it would help you, but how does it relate to me? You said I had a choice to return, but now you are asking me to stay?"
She smiles at you patiently. "Didst thou not hear my words? To be the firekeeper is to be here in this dream, as we are now; but it is the nature of dreams to end and so, when thou wakest, thou wouldst find thyself where thou went awake before. Such would be my gift to thee, the only aid I can offer to fulfill thine heart's desire."
You stare at her in silence for a while, your feelings torn. "Can it really be that easy?" you ask, your voice a mere whisper, wanting to hope but not daring to.
"I would not describe it as such, but I suppose from thy point of view, it would appear that way," the Keeper says. "Understand that it is an offer most unique, made in circumstances equally as such, for in truth I am not certain how thou camest to be here as thou art; no other spark has ever come to me in a manner similar. But perhaps 'tis not for us to know the how, only what we do with the chance it offers."
Nervously you wring your hands together as you mull the offer over in your head.
"If… If I were to accept, how would this work? What would be expected of me?" you ask slowly.
"I would place upon thee no fetters," she replies. "My desire is to help thee attain happiness, to gain that which thou were denied before, nothing more. Thou desirest to live and my offer be merely the only manner through which I can grant thy wish."
Your stomach contracts uncomfortably at the word 'wish'. You do not buy it; it sounds too good to be true. Suspicion fills you as you narrow your eyes at the Keeper.
"That doesn't really answer my question," you say. "If I accept, if I do this, what will happen to me? What am I supposed to do as a 'firekeeper'?"
"I told thee: I have no desire to burden thee with fetters or obligations of any kind," the Keeper answers again. "If thou takest my place, thou wouldst awaken were thou left and live as thou hast before, unchanged."
She sounds sincere and honest, but you're still not quite convinced. "If this is a dream and it's as simple as waking up from it, then how come you never awaken?"
"And where would I awaken to, dear child?" the Keeper asks in return, now bearing a sad smile. "I was born within this realm, created of and for the memories that slumber within it. This is my waking world, as surely as the world thou lived in was thine and I am bound to it as thou art bound to thine."
You can find no rebuttal to that.
Still, another question raises its head. "You said I would have no obligations, but did you not also say that you expect me to watch over these 'sparks'?" You cast another suspicious glance at her, wondering if you have at last found a hole in her alluring tale, have finally exposed the deception. "So which is it? Am I to be taskless, or to be a watcher in your stead?"
"One needn't necessarily exclude the other," the Firekeeper says, not sounding worried at having been potentially found out. "I think perhaps, that thou hast taken my meaning somewhat too literal. To watch over the fire and safeguard the sparks within its embrace, thou couldst accomplish this merely by accepting the mantle and being linked to it. Thou wouldst not need to return here, though thou art welcome to, at all times, of course. Thou needst but live and exist, such will be enough to maintain the flame."
You tilt your head. Since you have no idea of the inner workings of this realm, whatever or wherever it may be, her explanation sounds as plausible as any other, but still you feel some things do not add up.
"If that's all it takes, why can you leave even without me to take your place?"
At this, the Firekeeper's smile turns even sadder.
"I am a mere construct, dear child. An amalgamation of the ideals and memories contained within the fire and the sparks. In this manner, I am not truly alive, not as thou werest, and as of such, I possess not a soul of mine own," she says quietly. "Thou, on the other hand, possess a soul most bright, filled with the potential only a mortal soul can have. I am but as kindling in comparison and so I must tend to the flame in close proximity, lest it fade."
This revelation comes as somewhat of a shock, to put it mildly, and the suspicion you felt flees like a vampire from sunlight, to be replaced with horror as well as shame for the lack of tact with which you tackled this.
"I… I'm sorry," you stammer, but the Keeper gently shakes her head to brush it off.
"Thou needst not be," she assures you. "The truth of my existence burdens me not, I am content with my lot and honoured to bear my charge. I did not tell thee this to ask for thy sympathy, but merely to explain why thou art capable of something that I am not."
You look at the woman in wonder and see her in an entirely different light than before. You do not know why, but even though it is still possible that all she has said was all carefully planned to play on your emotions, something compels you to believe her. You want to believe her, can't stand the idea of someone seemingly so benign and benevolent harbouring any ill intentions towards you. Perhaps it is foolish of you to do so, but you've been alone for so long that even now, in death, your desire to no longer be isolated overrides your caution.
You hug your knees and turn your head to stare into the fire. You fall quiet and think.
Finally, after some time passes in total silence, you look back up at the Firekeeper, your expression a mix of conflicting emotions.
"If I do this… Is there really nothing you would like me to do in return?"
The Keeper seems hesitant. "I do not wish to impose…"
You shake your head. "You're not imposing. If this all of this is true, if this isn't some twisted delusion playing in my head or some cruel manner of game, then what you are offering is nothing less than bringing me back from the dead and giving me my life back," you say, while trying to force your body to stop shaking through sheer force of will.
"If… if you are really willing to do that for me, when you don't even know me or have any reason to help me, then… Then I cannot just do nothing for you in return. So please," you give her your most imploting of gazes. "If there is anything, tell me."
The Firekeeper seems to wrestle internally with your request for a while, but eventually she turns back to you and nods.
"There is one thing I would ask of thee, if thou art willing," she begins slowly. "But thou art free to decline and I shall not hold it against thee shouldst thou chose as such."
"I understand. Please, just tell me."
The woman takes a deep breath and finally relents. "The sparks I have gathered, as well as those to be found still, many of them lived lives not too dissimilar to thine own," she says. "Lives that ended prematurely, or lives too long filled with naught but grief. When thou wakest from death's slumber, to take thine second chance at life, wouldst thou be willing to take some of these sparks with thee, to grant them the same chance thou werest given?"
You blink, somewhat surprised. That was not the kind of request you expected.
"Would that even be possible?" you wonder aloud.
The Firekeeper nods affirmatively. "Take a spark and it shall awaken when thou dost, restored to form from memory, much like thee."
That is one question answered, but you still have many more. You know nothing of the Firekeeper and the 'sparks' in her care, nor of their history, the place they come from or if they are even human or not. It is one thing to entrust your own wellbeing - or at least the wellbeing of your soul, given your life is currently gone - to this woman and her offer, hoping and praying she is sincere and truthful, but quite another to possibly bring back unknown factors along with you.
How would these lost souls react to suddenly being alive again? At least when you decide if you want to accept this offer or not, it will have been your choice, but from what you can understand these 'sparks' are dormant, slumbering, who would know what happened to them only after the decision was already made. Without knowing anything about the true nature of these sparks, you cannot know how they will react to sudden resurrection, nor have you any way of knowing if they would be a danger to your home in case they don't.
You do not even know if they are truly 'lost souls' as the Firekeeper describes them. This could all still be a feverish dream of your dying mind, or a fiendish plot to have you unknowingly agree to bring something dangerous into your world.
You want to believe the Keeper is genuinely benign, you truly do, but your mind is so stuffed and overflowing with conflicting thoughts and emotions about everything that has happened and is currently happening to you, you struggle to cope with it all, let alone think about it calmly and rationally.
"I have caused thee distress once again, have I not?" the Keeper speaks mournfully, pulling you from your turmoiled thoughts. She bows apologetically towards you. "Forgive me, 't was wrong of me to ask thee to take on this burden."
"N-no, it's nothing like that," you reply, the genuinely apologetic tone of the Keeper's voice making you feel shame for all the suspicion and mistrust you've mentally subjected her to, as if you had just stepped on Kyubey on purpose. "It's just… There are a lot of things to consider concerning your request and I was merely, ah, overwhelmed thinking about them all."
"I understand," the Firekeeper says. "Still, the blame is mine for not expressing myself properly, as I see now how my words could be misconstrued. For this I apologise. I do not ask thee to take all sparks with thee at once. 't Would be most unfair to thee, but most unwise as well, as I do not know how these sparks will take to thy realm."
You nod in agreement, given how that was one of your own concerns as well.
"I could not possibly dare to take such risk with those entrusted to my care," the Keeper continues. "But perhaps if thou were to take but one spark only, the risk would be reduced to a level more acceptable?"
"It… It'd certainly be more manageable," you agree diplomatically. "If I do take one, what then?"
"I would humbly beg thee to look after it, if thou wouldst be willing." You can feel her pleading stare even while her eyes are hidden behind her mask. "Tis much to ask, I know this too well, especially given that thou hast no obligation towards them as I do. Still I ask, for thou art uniquely suited to understand them, knowing too well the pain of a life lived unfulfilled."
She extends her hands, still cupping the ember, and offers it to you.
"Child, I wish to give thee a second life, a chance to achieve all that thou left undone. All I ask, in sincerest humility, is to grant them what I would grant thee as well."
You stare at the ember, its flickering light reflected in your eyes while your mind is a maelstrom of feelings and thoughts. The sincerity of the Keeper's plea has nearly moved you to tears even as a part of you is screaming to not be swayed. There are a myriad of reasons for you to refuse, all of them valid, and hundreds of things you really should find out first before agreeing to anything. To go along with so many unknowns that could make you bitterly regret your choice in the future would be foolhardy.
Yet, in your heart, you already know what you're going to say regardless.
After all, was it any different when you became a magical girl?
"I'll do it."
You look up at the Firekeeper, trying to put on a brave face and smile, while at the same time you cannot hold back your tears anymore and salty pearls once more roll down your cheeks.
"I will fulfill your request."
The Keeper lets out a deep sigh you didn't realise she'd been holding. The flame in her hands flickers, but does not go out. When she raises her head again, your gazes meet despite her headband, and you find yourself amazed, for you cannot recall the last time you saw someone look so relieved, grateful and happy at the same time.
"Then, thou willst accept my offer and link thyself to the flame, to wake from death's sweet slumber and return whence ye came?"
You swallow hard, your throat feeling dry and raw, but you have made your decision and will not go back on it now.
"I will," you reply. "I… I want to live."
The Firekeeper's body shakes and for a moment it looks as if she is about to collapse, but she catches herself and forces her legs to remain firm. She smiles at you, her lips trembling, and you can see two shiny trails running down her face from underneath her mask.
"Thank thee," she manages to breathe out, her voice laden thickly with raw emotion.
You find yourself returning her smile, more sure of yourself this time.
"What must I do?" you ask, wanting to move on with this before you have time to change your mind.
The Keeper steps closer until she is right in front of you. "Raise thy hands as I did mine," she instructs, "that I might bestow upon thee this ember and return to thee the life thou were denied."
You cup your hands together as instructed and hold them out towards the Firekeeper. You try to ignore how violently your entire body is shaking, or how fast your heart is beating. Idly you wonder how that is even possible if you are dead.
As if in slow motion, you watch as the Firekeeper bends down and lowers her hands towards yours. You hold your breath as you feel the warmth of the flame as it comes closer and closer to your skin.
"Do not fear the fire," the Keeper whispers. "For it is through fire that thou shalt be reborn."
Her hands part, letting the ember drop into your own waiting ones.
You hiss through clenched teeth as you feel your palm get burned by searing heat, but have no time to think or scream, as the very next moment you are swallowed by a wave of warmth and light.
It takes a while for it to settle in that there is no danger anywhere you can see. Even longer for you to realise that you have no idea where you are.
You are sitting in a field of soft grass and that's about all you can tell, for anything beyond a stone throw's radius of where you are is shrouded by a thick, impenetrable fog. At first you think this fog is the reason for your distress, that you fear the things that might be hiding within the mist, but the longer you stare into it, the more you realise this is not the case. Strange as it might seem, the fog does not feel threatening to you and you are somehow certain that there is nothing in there waiting to pounce on you.
Slowly, as time passes on during which nothing happens, your breathing and body settle down as the panic fades. It would seem that for the moment you are safe and out of immediate danger. Now that you are no longer preoccupied with survival, your mind is free to turn to other matters, such as where you are or how you came to be here.
You pull your knees to your chest and hug them. Bowing your head and closing your eyes, you dive into your memory in search of answers. What is the last thing you remember?
You are Tomoe Mami. A veteran magical girl living in Mitakihara and you were… What were you doing? You recall Kaname Madoka came to get you, something about a grief seed? You frown, rubbing your temples as you push your mind harder. You went with Madoka to Sayaka, then entered a barrier to fight a Witch. The frown on your face deepens. Was Akemi Homura there as well? It's all so unclear, like watching a movie that has gaps in the filmstrip.
Regardless of whether or not the other magical girl was present, you do remember fighting the witch's minions and feeling elated because Madoka had declared to you her intentions to become a magical girl as well and fight at your side, meaning you wouldn't be alone anymore. Then you fought the Witch, a little doll thing and then… and then… What then?
You focus as hard as you can on the memory of the Witch. A brief image of teeth flashes through your mind for some reason, before pain explodes in your head, making you wince. You remember a feeling of incomprehensibly immense, primal fear, the same fear you felt when you woke up, then… darkness.
Instinctively, your hands reach for your soul gem, only to find that it isn't there.
A cold feeling of dread settles in the pit of your stomach. A glance at your clothes reveals that you're wearing your school uniform. Your soul gem is missing. Your last memories are of fighting a Witch, without remembering defeating it, a flash of pain and fear and then nothing, after which you woke up in a strange field shrouded in fog. Almost as if you di-
No.
No no no.
NonononononoNONONONONO!!!
Your eyes are wide in panic, your pupils shrunken into tiny pinpricks. You struggle to breathe, your chest constricted painfully as if held in a vice grip, your lungs burning as your body is starting to hyperventilate but you can't breathe and you're not getting any air and it just makes you panic even more and more and this can't be happening-!
A gentle, soothing melody fills the air.
Effortlessly it breaks through the panicked haze that clouds your mind and suddenly you can breathe again. You find yourself enraptured by the music, compelled to simply sit back and listen, which you do without even the slightest hint of resistance. Your eyes fall shut again as you let yourself drift along with the melody.
It is a calming, simple in structure yet rich with powerful emotion. It feels soothing to your very soul yet there is an unmistakable undertone of sorrow to it as well. You can feel it, as unmistakable as you can feel your own sorrow and grief. The music reverberates with your heart, touches you into your deepest self as it wordlessly sings a song of mourning. There is no bitterness, no regret, only acceptance and lamenting of the grief that comes with living.
A song of healing. Healing for the soul.
You don't know how long you sit there, lost within that beautiful sound, but when you open your eyes again you feel calm once more, the panic and nausea that had threatened to overwhelm you having been gently washed away.
You climb to your feet and turn yourself in the direction the music is coming from. You stare into the fog, as if trying to make it part through sheer force of will, but your vision remains as obfuscated as before. Still the music plays and you feel an urge within you to find where it is coming from, like the sound is a hand that beckons you to follow. In any other circumstances, you might have been suspicious of something beautiful but unknown luring you into a thick mist that could be hiding all kinds of danger, but somehow in this case you do not feel wary.
Perhaps that in itself could be seen as alarming, but you ignore it and step into the fog.
Time loses all meaning within the mist, with the music slowly growing louder being the only way to tell that you are actually making progress. So it comes as somewhat of a surprise when you suddenly find yourself in a clearing, standing at the edge of what appears to be a ruin of sorts.
Once it must have been a great, magnificent building, but now all that remains is a circle of stones amidst the grass with a few remaining crumbling walls and pieces of masonry scattered across the field. A tall bonfire burns in the middle of the circle, its orange flames dancing merrily and bathing the clearing in a warm, inviting light. A fallen pillar lies next to the fire, upon which sits a lonely figure.
It is a woman, with long silvery white hair and dressed in a long white robe, simple but elegant in its design, with golden filigree, and a light grey cloak draped over her shoulders. Her face is delicate, her skin smooth and peerless, but her eyes are hidden behind an ornate golden band that spans her head. In her hands she holds a harp, her fingers plucking the strings with all the confidence and finesse of a master harpist, creating the melody that has guided you here.
For a moment you simply stare at the sight, your feet seemingly rooted in place. Of all the things you had expected to find, this was not one of them and you are unsure of how to react. The woman doesn't seem to have noticed you - you aren't even sure if she can see you with that gold band covering her eyes - and keeps playing her harp, the music more clear and beautiful to your ears than ever now that you are at its source.
You wonder what to do next. The bonfire looks warm and inviting, but you are wary of the woman's presence. Harmless though she seems, experience has taught you that appearances can be most deceiving, as your most recent brush with a Witch so kindly reminded you.
You are still debating on your course of action, when the woman at the fire suddenly raises her head and looks right at you. The music fades as her fingers stop caressing the harp strings.
"Thou'st met with a terrible fate, hast thou not?"
You find your hands clutching your throat again in unbidden response to these words. You swallow hard and feel a shiver run down your spine. Suddenly, the fire no longer looks so warm or inviting.
The woman gives you a genuine apologetic smile. "Fear not, I mean thee no harm." She places her harp in her lap, moves somewhat to the side of the pillar she sits on, then gestures at the spot she just vacated. "Come, weary soul, warm thineself at the fire."
You hesitate, but only briefly, for you can detect no deception in her words nor in her voice. You enter the ruins, alert but not wary, and take place next to the woman on the pillar. The warmth of the fire washes over you and seems to soothe you much the same way the music did earlier.
Together, you and the woman sit in amicable silence for a while, content to simply bask in the light of the flames.
Eventually, however, you find that your many questions cannot go unanswered any longer. You turn your head to the woman.
"Who are you?" you had to ask.
The woman gently pushes some of the bonfire's logs around. "I am both a memory and an idea. A firekeeper in dream and a dreamer in the fire. A tenant was I, once, of the first flame, but now I keep only the sparks that remain..." she muses, then gives you a long look. "Perhaps thou couldst draw more sparks, those lights lost in this darkness?"
You bow your head to stare at your hands. Nonsensical though the woman's words may sound, somehow you find meaning in them, confirmation of your suspicions as to your own nature. Unconsciously, your hands clutch around your throat again, as the memory of that dreadful, all encompassing fear flashes through your mind again.
"These sparks…" you begin. "They are people who… who d-died?"
The Keeper picks up her harp again, her fingers strumming idly amongst the strings. Only now that you are right next to her can you see that both her hands are burnt.
"They are… lost," is all she says.
You bite your lip. You are afraid to ask your next question, but you have to know.
"Am I… Am I dead?"
Your eyes are closed as you wait with growing dread and fear for the answer, so you are surprised when you feel a warm hand place itself atop your clenched fists. You open your eyes to see the Keeper staring at you, somehow, despite the headband that hides her eyes.
"I fear thou couldst not be here otherwise." She pats your hands. "I am sorry."
Your hands are trembling, no, your entire body is shaking.
"T-then… I'm really…" you begin, but words fail you and you can say no more. Now you understand why you could not remember anything that happened after you fought the Witch: because there was nothing to remember. You lost. You died. You, Tomoe Mami, killed by a Witch, somehow, after all those years, after all the times you warned and taught other magical girls to never underestimate their foes…
Your eyes widen in panic and you gasp. Madoka and Sayaka, they were there with you, weren't they? Meaning not only did they see you lose, see you die, but with you gone, there would have been nobody to protect them from the Witch! Unless somehow they got saved by someone else, that means your failure caused the death of two innocent girls that were not a part of this! You-
The music starts to play and the haze of pain and fear on your mind lifts once more.
You look to the side to see the Keeper has taken up her harp again. As her delicate fingers pluck at the strings, she keeps her gaze locked on you, hidden though it is behind her mask.
"Thou bearest a heavy burden," she says, sound sad and compassionate. "It pains me to see in one as young as thee, but more so it is the familiarity of it that makes my heart ache. The pain of regret, of dreams unfulfilled, of a life not lived…" The light of the bonfire makes the gold of her headband shimmer. "Tell me, child, dost thou desire to return? To live the days that were thy due, but ended before their time?"
You stare at the woman, uncomprehending. "R-return?" you stammer. "I'm… I'm dead!" You hesitate, uncertainty claiming you. With a small voice you add: "... aren't I?"
The Keeper stares into the fire, still playing her beautiful, mournful song.
"A long time ago, when my dream was still young, there came here another," she begins. "I remember him well, for he was most peculiar, but also most kind. I believe he was a merchant of some sorts, though my mind fails me as to his wares. I remember his laughter was warm, if somewhat strange to my ears…"
You stare at the Keeper, uncertain as to the relevance or meaning of this tale.
"More so than kind and peculiar, however, he was also very wise. Though I remember not how we came to speak of it, I recall one thing he said most clearly." She turns her head back to you. "He said that whenever a meeting taketh place, a parting is sure to follow. However, that parting, as partings are wont to do, need not last forever..."
You frown, still failing to understand her meaning. Or rather, you understand it, and it is a beautiful sentiment to be sure, but you don't quite see how it applies to your current situation, and you tell her so.
"I can't just… decide to come back to life," you say, though for some reason you find doubt creeping into your words, as baffling as it seems. "That's not how it works."
The Keeper tilts her head again, thinking. "Is death not a parting?" she asks.
"In a sense," you admit.
"Then thou hast a choice. If thou feelest that thou hast been robbed of days rightfully thine, thou couldst seek to reclaim them, if thou art willing. But if thou art content with thy lot, or seekest thine grief and pain to cease, then that, too, is a path for thou to take."
"Content?" you repeat. "You mean, if I have no regrets? What would happen then?"
"Only that which thou desirest to happen," the Keeper replies. "Thou couldst remain here, a while or forever more, if thou so chosest. Or thou couldst go onward, to further beyond."
"And where would that take me?" you ask, almost automatically.
The Keeper gives you a knowing smile. "Further beyond."
You wait for her to elaborate, but she does not and you soon realise she never will. It seems that is one answer you will have to discover for yourself, but you are not certain you even want to. If you have no regrets, the Keeper said, but you have so many. So many things you still wanted to get done, so many things you still wanted to say. To your parents, to Kyubey, to Madoka and Sayaka…
To Kyoko.
You shake your head, even as tears run down your face. It hurts, to think about them, a pain that not even the mournful, soothing notes of the Keeper's harp can't ease. There is a way, however, the older woman told you that much. A way to make it stop, to shake off the regrets and the pain, alongside everything else weighing you down.
You're not sure you want that, though.
You don't want to forget, or to fade, or whatever it is that would happen. You want to go back, to fix it, to do all those things you regret not doing. But you can't. You're dead. You let your guard down and were punished for it. All because you were happy at the prospect of having someone by your side again.
"I just… I just didn't want to be alone anymore," you sob. "W-was that so wrong that I had to d-die?!"
The music fades as the Keeper puts down her harp again. She folds her hands in her lap, then turns to you with a most serious expression on her face.
"If thou couldst return, to take up thine life's thread from whence it was cut short… wouldst thou thou be willing, if given the chance?" she asks, for the second time.
You swallow hard as you think it over.
"I… I think so," is your answer. "But I don't see how-"
"If that be thine heart's desire," the Keeper interrupts you, "there is a proposal I would make to thee, a course of action thou couldst take that would be to our combined benefit, if thou wouldst be willing to lend me thine ear?"
You look up at the woman with a tearstained face, your blurred eyes suddenly warry. Intentional or not, the Keeper's words ring hauntingly familiar in your ears, and not in a good way. Unwillingly, memories you'd rather not relive are dredged up from within your mind, of an awful moment in your life when you were given a similar offer to cheat death. A moment that gained you a friend, but also regret you carried with you for the rest of your days.
Unconsciously, you find yourself backing away from the other woman.
"I apologise, I meant not to cause thee distress, child," the Keeper says upon noticing your reaction. She reaches out, slowly so as to not startle you, and gently places her hand atop of yours. "I spoke as I did merely because it is both my nature and purpose to provide aid and solace to lost souls such as thine. Whether or not thou wishest to accept my aid is entirely for thee to decide and I will not begrudge thee either way."
You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself. She certainly sounds sincere and seems to genuinely want to help, but years of caution stemming from life as a magical girl keep you wary. You stare at her hand atop of your own, idly noting it feels warm and even comforting to the touch.
"You say you want to help me, if I make the choice to go back, but how?" you ask, as diplomatically as you can. "Who are you, exactly, that you can claim such a thing? What is this offer you would make me?"
The Keeper smiles at you warmly and gently squeezes your hand. "I told thee, I am memory and idea both. A firekeeper in dream and a dreamer in the fire. To me was given the charge to find and look after the sparks lost, and so I have. Now thou art here, a spark looking for aid, who desireth to return to a life ended too short."
She pats your hand one final time, then rises up from the fallen pillar. Only now do you notice that she is remarkably tall, though surprisingly you do not feel intimidated; her stature is one of welcoming and care, not one that threatens. You watch her move to the bonfire, then gasp when she puts both her hands into the flames without hesitation.
"I have found and tended what sparks I could find, but in truth there be more out there still, waiting to be found," the Keeper continues, before turning back to face you. You can see she is now holding a small but brightly glowing ember in the cup of her hands. "My heart longs to seek them out, but I could not leave the ones already gathered unattended. But now, perhaps, with thine aid, a chance presents itself that could fulfill our desires both?"
A frown forms on your face, your tears now dried up, as you look at the Keeper and the flame she holds in incomprehension.
"What… what are you asking of me?"
"I would offer thee my place at the fire, child," the Keeper replies. "Shouldst thou accept, I could leave into the mists, free to pursue the sparks whose cries for shelter are still unheard, and be at ease knowing those already found would be safe under thy watch in my absence."
The suggestion surprises and puzzles you in equal measure. "I don't understand," you admit. "I mean, I understand what you are asking and how it would help you, but how does it relate to me? You said I had a choice to return, but now you are asking me to stay?"
She smiles at you patiently. "Didst thou not hear my words? To be the firekeeper is to be here in this dream, as we are now; but it is the nature of dreams to end and so, when thou wakest, thou wouldst find thyself where thou went awake before. Such would be my gift to thee, the only aid I can offer to fulfill thine heart's desire."
You stare at her in silence for a while, your feelings torn. "Can it really be that easy?" you ask, your voice a mere whisper, wanting to hope but not daring to.
"I would not describe it as such, but I suppose from thy point of view, it would appear that way," the Keeper says. "Understand that it is an offer most unique, made in circumstances equally as such, for in truth I am not certain how thou camest to be here as thou art; no other spark has ever come to me in a manner similar. But perhaps 'tis not for us to know the how, only what we do with the chance it offers."
Nervously you wring your hands together as you mull the offer over in your head.
"If… If I were to accept, how would this work? What would be expected of me?" you ask slowly.
"I would place upon thee no fetters," she replies. "My desire is to help thee attain happiness, to gain that which thou were denied before, nothing more. Thou desirest to live and my offer be merely the only manner through which I can grant thy wish."
Your stomach contracts uncomfortably at the word 'wish'. You do not buy it; it sounds too good to be true. Suspicion fills you as you narrow your eyes at the Keeper.
"That doesn't really answer my question," you say. "If I accept, if I do this, what will happen to me? What am I supposed to do as a 'firekeeper'?"
"I told thee: I have no desire to burden thee with fetters or obligations of any kind," the Keeper answers again. "If thou takest my place, thou wouldst awaken were thou left and live as thou hast before, unchanged."
She sounds sincere and honest, but you're still not quite convinced. "If this is a dream and it's as simple as waking up from it, then how come you never awaken?"
"And where would I awaken to, dear child?" the Keeper asks in return, now bearing a sad smile. "I was born within this realm, created of and for the memories that slumber within it. This is my waking world, as surely as the world thou lived in was thine and I am bound to it as thou art bound to thine."
You can find no rebuttal to that.
Still, another question raises its head. "You said I would have no obligations, but did you not also say that you expect me to watch over these 'sparks'?" You cast another suspicious glance at her, wondering if you have at last found a hole in her alluring tale, have finally exposed the deception. "So which is it? Am I to be taskless, or to be a watcher in your stead?"
"One needn't necessarily exclude the other," the Firekeeper says, not sounding worried at having been potentially found out. "I think perhaps, that thou hast taken my meaning somewhat too literal. To watch over the fire and safeguard the sparks within its embrace, thou couldst accomplish this merely by accepting the mantle and being linked to it. Thou wouldst not need to return here, though thou art welcome to, at all times, of course. Thou needst but live and exist, such will be enough to maintain the flame."
You tilt your head. Since you have no idea of the inner workings of this realm, whatever or wherever it may be, her explanation sounds as plausible as any other, but still you feel some things do not add up.
"If that's all it takes, why can you leave even without me to take your place?"
At this, the Firekeeper's smile turns even sadder.
"I am a mere construct, dear child. An amalgamation of the ideals and memories contained within the fire and the sparks. In this manner, I am not truly alive, not as thou werest, and as of such, I possess not a soul of mine own," she says quietly. "Thou, on the other hand, possess a soul most bright, filled with the potential only a mortal soul can have. I am but as kindling in comparison and so I must tend to the flame in close proximity, lest it fade."
This revelation comes as somewhat of a shock, to put it mildly, and the suspicion you felt flees like a vampire from sunlight, to be replaced with horror as well as shame for the lack of tact with which you tackled this.
"I… I'm sorry," you stammer, but the Keeper gently shakes her head to brush it off.
"Thou needst not be," she assures you. "The truth of my existence burdens me not, I am content with my lot and honoured to bear my charge. I did not tell thee this to ask for thy sympathy, but merely to explain why thou art capable of something that I am not."
You look at the woman in wonder and see her in an entirely different light than before. You do not know why, but even though it is still possible that all she has said was all carefully planned to play on your emotions, something compels you to believe her. You want to believe her, can't stand the idea of someone seemingly so benign and benevolent harbouring any ill intentions towards you. Perhaps it is foolish of you to do so, but you've been alone for so long that even now, in death, your desire to no longer be isolated overrides your caution.
You hug your knees and turn your head to stare into the fire. You fall quiet and think.
Finally, after some time passes in total silence, you look back up at the Firekeeper, your expression a mix of conflicting emotions.
"If I do this… Is there really nothing you would like me to do in return?"
The Keeper seems hesitant. "I do not wish to impose…"
You shake your head. "You're not imposing. If this all of this is true, if this isn't some twisted delusion playing in my head or some cruel manner of game, then what you are offering is nothing less than bringing me back from the dead and giving me my life back," you say, while trying to force your body to stop shaking through sheer force of will.
"If… if you are really willing to do that for me, when you don't even know me or have any reason to help me, then… Then I cannot just do nothing for you in return. So please," you give her your most imploting of gazes. "If there is anything, tell me."
The Firekeeper seems to wrestle internally with your request for a while, but eventually she turns back to you and nods.
"There is one thing I would ask of thee, if thou art willing," she begins slowly. "But thou art free to decline and I shall not hold it against thee shouldst thou chose as such."
"I understand. Please, just tell me."
The woman takes a deep breath and finally relents. "The sparks I have gathered, as well as those to be found still, many of them lived lives not too dissimilar to thine own," she says. "Lives that ended prematurely, or lives too long filled with naught but grief. When thou wakest from death's slumber, to take thine second chance at life, wouldst thou be willing to take some of these sparks with thee, to grant them the same chance thou werest given?"
You blink, somewhat surprised. That was not the kind of request you expected.
"Would that even be possible?" you wonder aloud.
The Firekeeper nods affirmatively. "Take a spark and it shall awaken when thou dost, restored to form from memory, much like thee."
That is one question answered, but you still have many more. You know nothing of the Firekeeper and the 'sparks' in her care, nor of their history, the place they come from or if they are even human or not. It is one thing to entrust your own wellbeing - or at least the wellbeing of your soul, given your life is currently gone - to this woman and her offer, hoping and praying she is sincere and truthful, but quite another to possibly bring back unknown factors along with you.
How would these lost souls react to suddenly being alive again? At least when you decide if you want to accept this offer or not, it will have been your choice, but from what you can understand these 'sparks' are dormant, slumbering, who would know what happened to them only after the decision was already made. Without knowing anything about the true nature of these sparks, you cannot know how they will react to sudden resurrection, nor have you any way of knowing if they would be a danger to your home in case they don't.
You do not even know if they are truly 'lost souls' as the Firekeeper describes them. This could all still be a feverish dream of your dying mind, or a fiendish plot to have you unknowingly agree to bring something dangerous into your world.
You want to believe the Keeper is genuinely benign, you truly do, but your mind is so stuffed and overflowing with conflicting thoughts and emotions about everything that has happened and is currently happening to you, you struggle to cope with it all, let alone think about it calmly and rationally.
"I have caused thee distress once again, have I not?" the Keeper speaks mournfully, pulling you from your turmoiled thoughts. She bows apologetically towards you. "Forgive me, 't was wrong of me to ask thee to take on this burden."
"N-no, it's nothing like that," you reply, the genuinely apologetic tone of the Keeper's voice making you feel shame for all the suspicion and mistrust you've mentally subjected her to, as if you had just stepped on Kyubey on purpose. "It's just… There are a lot of things to consider concerning your request and I was merely, ah, overwhelmed thinking about them all."
"I understand," the Firekeeper says. "Still, the blame is mine for not expressing myself properly, as I see now how my words could be misconstrued. For this I apologise. I do not ask thee to take all sparks with thee at once. 't Would be most unfair to thee, but most unwise as well, as I do not know how these sparks will take to thy realm."
You nod in agreement, given how that was one of your own concerns as well.
"I could not possibly dare to take such risk with those entrusted to my care," the Keeper continues. "But perhaps if thou were to take but one spark only, the risk would be reduced to a level more acceptable?"
"It… It'd certainly be more manageable," you agree diplomatically. "If I do take one, what then?"
"I would humbly beg thee to look after it, if thou wouldst be willing." You can feel her pleading stare even while her eyes are hidden behind her mask. "Tis much to ask, I know this too well, especially given that thou hast no obligation towards them as I do. Still I ask, for thou art uniquely suited to understand them, knowing too well the pain of a life lived unfulfilled."
She extends her hands, still cupping the ember, and offers it to you.
"Child, I wish to give thee a second life, a chance to achieve all that thou left undone. All I ask, in sincerest humility, is to grant them what I would grant thee as well."
You stare at the ember, its flickering light reflected in your eyes while your mind is a maelstrom of feelings and thoughts. The sincerity of the Keeper's plea has nearly moved you to tears even as a part of you is screaming to not be swayed. There are a myriad of reasons for you to refuse, all of them valid, and hundreds of things you really should find out first before agreeing to anything. To go along with so many unknowns that could make you bitterly regret your choice in the future would be foolhardy.
Yet, in your heart, you already know what you're going to say regardless.
After all, was it any different when you became a magical girl?
"I'll do it."
You look up at the Firekeeper, trying to put on a brave face and smile, while at the same time you cannot hold back your tears anymore and salty pearls once more roll down your cheeks.
"I will fulfill your request."
The Keeper lets out a deep sigh you didn't realise she'd been holding. The flame in her hands flickers, but does not go out. When she raises her head again, your gazes meet despite her headband, and you find yourself amazed, for you cannot recall the last time you saw someone look so relieved, grateful and happy at the same time.
"Then, thou willst accept my offer and link thyself to the flame, to wake from death's sweet slumber and return whence ye came?"
You swallow hard, your throat feeling dry and raw, but you have made your decision and will not go back on it now.
"I will," you reply. "I… I want to live."
The Firekeeper's body shakes and for a moment it looks as if she is about to collapse, but she catches herself and forces her legs to remain firm. She smiles at you, her lips trembling, and you can see two shiny trails running down her face from underneath her mask.
"Thank thee," she manages to breathe out, her voice laden thickly with raw emotion.
You find yourself returning her smile, more sure of yourself this time.
"What must I do?" you ask, wanting to move on with this before you have time to change your mind.
The Keeper steps closer until she is right in front of you. "Raise thy hands as I did mine," she instructs, "that I might bestow upon thee this ember and return to thee the life thou were denied."
You cup your hands together as instructed and hold them out towards the Firekeeper. You try to ignore how violently your entire body is shaking, or how fast your heart is beating. Idly you wonder how that is even possible if you are dead.
As if in slow motion, you watch as the Firekeeper bends down and lowers her hands towards yours. You hold your breath as you feel the warmth of the flame as it comes closer and closer to your skin.
"Do not fear the fire," the Keeper whispers. "For it is through fire that thou shalt be reborn."
Her hands part, letting the ember drop into your own waiting ones.
You hiss through clenched teeth as you feel your palm get burned by searing heat, but have no time to think or scream, as the very next moment you are swallowed by a wave of warmth and light.
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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So, this is now a thing. Inspired by "Puella Magi Adfligo Systema" and the "Waifu Souls CYOA" and with no little prodding from Stewart, I made this thing where I toss two depressing settings in which horrible things happen to innocent girls together with the explicit purpose of giving said girls a chance at a better, happy life. Or, in case of Mami and the Dark Souls characters, a second chance at life.
In the post following this one, I will go into more detail on the first important vote, namely, the choice of your first Dark Souls Waifu. But before that, a little bit about this mental idea in general.
I don't intend for this to be a dark or depressing thing, quite the opposite, I chose these two settings explicitly so we could bring some light to them, because lord knows do these girls, of both settings, deserve it.
I admit I haven't watched PMMM itself, all my knowledge of it is second-hand, because while I like the idea of helping these characters and have enjoyed Puella Magi Adfligo Systema because it does just that, the show itself is not something I could bear. A mere glimpse at a gif of Mami's death scene (not even with sound) was enough to keep me awake for a night and also what really spurred me into gear into thinking about this more seriously (and because Stewart poked me with a cattle prod).
So, part of the players' task will be to make sure I get these characters right, and to poke me when I mess up. I welcome anyone willing to give me advice or lend me a hand when it comes to that. You all probably know better than me how canon characters are likely to react to these new events, so I'll be relying on the direction given by votes and write-ins a lot.
With that said, let's get to voting for a waifu!
In the post following this one, I will go into more detail on the first important vote, namely, the choice of your first Dark Souls Waifu. But before that, a little bit about this mental idea in general.
I don't intend for this to be a dark or depressing thing, quite the opposite, I chose these two settings explicitly so we could bring some light to them, because lord knows do these girls, of both settings, deserve it.
I admit I haven't watched PMMM itself, all my knowledge of it is second-hand, because while I like the idea of helping these characters and have enjoyed Puella Magi Adfligo Systema because it does just that, the show itself is not something I could bear. A mere glimpse at a gif of Mami's death scene (not even with sound) was enough to keep me awake for a night and also what really spurred me into gear into thinking about this more seriously (and because Stewart poked me with a cattle prod).
So, part of the players' task will be to make sure I get these characters right, and to poke me when I mess up. I welcome anyone willing to give me advice or lend me a hand when it comes to that. You all probably know better than me how canon characters are likely to react to these new events, so I'll be relying on the direction given by votes and write-ins a lot.
With that said, let's get to voting for a waifu!
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Vote 1 - Choose your Waifu
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Choose Your Waifu! ~
---
~ Choose Your Waifu! ~
---
Now that Mami has linked herself to the fire, it is time to vote for which spark she will be taking with her back to the land of the living. However, there are a number of things to keep in mind when casting your vote, so pay attention!
- Unlike you, the players, Mami will not know the identity of the soul she takes until she meets them in person in the real world.
- Mami died and her soul gem shattered, meaning that she is no longer a magical girl. On the upside, this means she has her soul back in her body and you don't have to worry about her witching out if she gets the lich or witch bomb dropped upon her. On the downside, that means that for now she's a squishy human again, which will make some of these lost souls risky to interact with at first. Even if you respawn at your bonfire. She also cannot make another contract with Kyubey.
- Just because Mami will take them back with her, doesn't mean they'll emerge in the real world where she does, or that she will meet them right away. She might have to search for some of them in order to meet them, so when voting, you should probably consider which of these girls could be left safely on their own in Mitakihara until Mami-sempai picks them up.
- You can vote for any of the choices presented to you here, but remember that these girls all come with their own background, their own needs and desires and their own issues. Some of which Mami currently may not be very well equipped to handle. I'm not saying it's impossible, but there is no guarantee that any of these choices lead to a happy end.
- Just because one of these unfortunate girls doesn't get picked now doesn't mean they cannot be picked later. Mami will be capable of learning Dark Souls miracles, sorceries and pyromancies to make up for her lack of magical girl powers, depending on the soul she chooses to bring with her.
- Dealing with this reborn Dark Souls girl will not be the only thing Mami will have to deal with. She still died and came back to life and will have to deal with the fallout of that. How will she explain this to Sayaka and Madoka, if she chooses to let them know? How will Homura react to finding out, given how this is a massive anomaly in her loops? Will Kyoko still move to Mitakihara, now that Mami can no longer hunt Witches? Be careful not to overload Mami's plate.
With all of that said, let's take a look at your options, shall we?
---
"Here, take this. A waifu, an undead favourite..."
---
"Here, take this. A waifu, an undead favourite..."
---
Blades of the Darkmoon Company Captain
Yorshka
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pros: personality wise, she is a kind and soft-spoken girl, not likely to raise trouble. Besides her loneliness, she has little issues, meaning she requires only 'low maintenance'. She will also enable access to basic miracles, as well as the powerful Darkmoon Blade miracle, if she trusts you enough. Aside from her tail, appearance-wise she can also go outside without trouble.
cons: due to being isolated so long, she desires company above all else, so she can get clingy, much like Mami herself. She has also never been to the outside world, so she knew little of the workings of Lothric, and will even less of modern Japan. Has no combat skills to speak of.
difficulty: easy
Eternal Invisible Crow Chicklet
Snuggly
A mysterious young crow chicklet with the ability to make herself completely invisible and a love for all things warm and soft, which she which she will trade the most outlandish of things for. Despite her appearance, she is, in fact, a crow, not a human or harpy.
pros: as her name implies, she will give Mami all the snuggles. She's bright and peppy, like an eager child, with little emotional baggage or issues to speak of. She can provide Mami with a diverse array of items, from magic rings to perhaps even weapons. Due to being a crow, her needs are simple. Being able to turn herself invisible also makes it easy to take her out in public.
cons: being a crow, the relationship she would have with Mami is more of a pet than a friend, despite her ability to talk or sapience. She knows arguably even less about the human world than Yorshka, and her understanding of it will never be human level. The things you can get from her through trade are randomized, so you might not always get what you want. Has no combat skills to speak of.
difficulty: easy
Crossbreed
Priscilla
A half-dragon crossbreed who has lived almost the entirety of her life locked away in a painted world, because the Gods of Anor Londo feared the power of the Lifehunt ability she wielded. Similar to her fellow crossbreed Yorshka, she has little to no knowledge or understanding of the world beyond her prison.
pros: has the fuzziest tail in the universe, making it great for snuggles. Her Lifehunt ability and Lifehunt scythe are powerful assets, which, combined with her ability to turn herself invisible, make her a formidable combatant. She has a quiet and peaceful nature, meaning she is unlikely to get into trouble or seek it out. Has little needs or desires beyond wanting to live peacefully.
cons: being twice the size of an adult human, she would stand out like a sore thumb if taken outside and one can only remain invisible for so long. Much like Yorshka, she has been isolated for a long time, but unlike her fellow crossbreed, this has made her more solitary and withdrawn; getting her to come out of her shell might take some effort. She's also uncomfortable being outside her former home.
difficulty: medium
Daughters of Chaos, Chaos Witches
Quelaag and Quelaan
The only survivors - that they know of - of an apocalyptic event that destroyed their home of Izalith and twisted their mother and fellow sisters into monstrous creatures known as demons. Quelaag and Quelaan barely escaped with their lives and sanity intact, but their bodies were fused to grotesque, demonic spiders as a result of the event. Quelaan later fell ill with a blight plague, leaving her immobile, delirious and blind. Quelaag devoted the rest of her life to taking care of her sibling and defending their domain from intruders. Alas, Quelaag was slain by one such intruder, Quelaan being none the wiser of her sister's fate.
pros: earning Quelaag's trust will make her a staunch and powerful ally, as well as offer access to incredibly powerful and devastating Chaos pyromancies.
cons: because Quelaag and her sister come as a pair, that means two medieval women to help adjust to the modern world. The sisters' lower bodies being gargantuan demonic spiders mean that going out in public is impossible and would likely result in panic. Quelaan is still crippled, delirious and blind and will require dedicated care and healing, made more difficult by the fact that in her previous life, only Humanity was able to alleviate the pain of her illness, the closest equivalent to which in Mitakihara would most likely be soul gems or grief seeds… Quelaag is viciously protective of Quelaan and will go to any lengths to protect her and to alleviate her suffering even the tiniest bit. Keeping any damage or destruction Quelaag might wreak secret will most likely require you to interact plenty with Kyubey. As a base human, Mami is utterly defenceless against Quelaag in a battle, so approaching the Chaos Witch will undoubtedly require you to seek aid with other magical girls. Finally, there is a language barrier in place, as the sisters speak only the tongue of Izalith. Either you will have to teach them japanese somehow, or you find an Old Witch's Ring which will let you understand them. Who knows, you might find one in a crow nest somewhere?
difficulty: suicidal
---
Time to vote!
[ ] Company Captain Yorshka
[ ] Snuggly the Crow
[ ] Crossbreed Priscilla
[ ] Chaos Witch Quelaag & Quelaan
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Rekindling - 2
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
---
Hello again! From now on, I plan to start each update with a quick announcement of the winning vote, then give the update, then follow up with a complete rundown of the vote tally and of course the next vote. Sound good?
Anyway, the winning vote for Mami's first Dark Souls waifu is Snuggly the Crow, with 22 votes, just one more than her closest competitor, Priscilla the Crossbreed. More details after the chapter. So, let's dive in:
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Rekindling - 2When the light dies down and enables you to see again, the first thing you notice is that the flame you held in your hands is gone. The second is that said hands are now wearing a set of fingerless gloves made of brown leather, which they definitely did not before. A quick look at yourself reveals that your entire outfit has, in fact, changed into a perfect replica of the Firekeeper's own clothes, only fit to your size and coloured grey instead of white.
Touching your head, you discover that you are even wearing a headband like she does, that you can see through somehow despite it covering your eyes. You're not going to question how that works, nor do you wonder where these robes even come from; as a former magical girl, you're more than used to making clothes appear seemingly out of nowhere.
You just hope the headband doesn't get in the way of your ringlets, as you're quite attached to those. First thing to look at when you find a mirror, you decide.
One you are done checking out your new look, you turn your gaze up at the Firekeeper, who is regarding you with a patient, warm smile. The tears on her cheeks from before seem to have dried up, no doubt thanks to the heat of the fire you held, and her now empty hands are folded neatly if loosely together.
"'Tis done," she says. "How dost thou feel?"
You place your hand over your chest, to feel the steady beat of your heart. However, when you close your eyes to focus within, you can feel more than just your heart. There's something else there now as well, a glow, a warmth, a presence so soothing and comforting that any words would fail to properly capture its glory and splendor.
You open your eyes again and look back up to the Keeper. "Warm," you reply, smiling apologetically for the fact that you can't describe it any more adequately than that. "I feel warm."
The Firekeeper, however, nods her head knowingly, as if she understands perfectly what you meant from just that one simple word. Given how she was apparently made for and from the Flame she just shared with you, she actually most likely does, you realise.
"The flame of life has been lit within thee," she says. "It shall be with thee wheresoever thou goest, a blanket to shield thee from death's chill, a light to shelter thee in even the deepest darkness. Look but within and there thou shalt find ever now the strength thou needst, the comfort thou cravest, the hope thou requirest."
You glance at your hands, at the burn marks peeking out from underneath your new gloves and do not even feel upset or sad at the sight of the marred skin. Instead, the sight of it almost… comforts you, for it serves as both proof and reminder of the flame you now carry within.
"Thank you," you whisper quietly, giving her a grateful look from behind your new eye mask.
The Firekeeper inclines her head. "Thou art most welcome, child."
"... though, not that I wish to sound ungrateful or anything, but why the new clothes?" you ask, blinking at her curiously.
Her response is soft laughter, like the chimling of beautiful little bells, though she tries to hide it by covering her mouth with her hand. "Thou art a Firekeeper now," she explains, amused. "'Tis only right for thee to look the part, no?"
A fair point, you have to concede.
"Speaking of parts," you say as you rise to your feet. You look down at your feet as you move, not wanting to step on or trip over your new robes. They're rather long and drag on the ground, after all. "You did yours, so I should do mine. I will take a spark with me, as I promised, but…" You wring your hands together sheepishly. "How do I do that?"
The Firekeeper smiles patiently and gestures towards the bonfire.
"Reach inside the flame and thou shalt feel the souls that slumber. Call out to one that speaks to thee, after which thou but needst to lift it from the fire to set it free."
You nod and turn to the waiting flames. Before, being so near to a fire and its heat would have made you wary, but now, you have no fear, for you can feel the part of it that burns within you and know that this fire will not harm you. Thus, you do not even hesitate and put your hands into the flame, the same way you saw the Firekeeper do but a few moments earlier.
As expected, the flames do not burn you, merely make your hands tingle with pleasant warmth. With a small smile on your lips, you close your eyes for the next step, then tried to do as the Firekeeper had instructed and feel.
It's not as hard as you expected. The moment you open your senses, you are nearly overwhelmed by the amount of life you feel within the fire. It is the same as the warmth you felt within you, but greater, an inferno compared to the lit matchstick that is the flame of your life.
It is awe inspiring, as well as more than a little intimidating. You actually feel tiny and insignificant for a moment, before you defiantly push those feelings away. Now is not the time to be impressed, humbling though the experience is. You have a task to fulfill.
You try to block out the presence of the Flame itself and instead try to look closer, to discern the individual drops of water that make up the sea, so to speak. This proves not as simple as detecting the Flame itself was, but neither was making muskets out of energy ribbons, and you mastered that until it became trivial and second nature. So you open your senses even further, will yourself to see these sparks, to hear their thoughts as they slumber.
And you do.
You see the flames within the Flame, all fragments of a greater whole, yet each is alive on their own, you can feel it. Not alive in the literal sense, like you, but they exist, the essence of what makes them, well, them is there, undiluted, unblemished. You're surprised to see that they come in varying sizes and colours, though on reflection you're not sure why you were, as it only makes sense that no individual is the same and that the souls would be shaped and formed depending on their experiences in life, right?
You shake your metaphysical head. You are getting distracted, while you still have a task to complete.
Remembering what the Firekeeper told you, you reach out to the sparks, trying to feel if any of them are close to waking, or are dreaming of it. Immediately, you sense a shift within the sea of life that is the Flame, as some of the sparks drift closer to you. Smiling, you call out to them, beckoning them closer with the promise of awakening, causing some to come even closer, close enough that you can get a glimpse of their… dreams? Thoughts?
You are not sure, but it gives you a faint impression of the souls before you nonetheless. A small one gives you an impression of happiness, while two golden flames radiate a feeling you know all too well: loneliness. One spark feels like two souls intertwined, with a vague impression of family, but it is hard to be certain.
You regard the sparks in your mind's eye, wondering which one to take with you. You have no idea what kind of people they belong to, what they will be like once awakened, so in that sense your choice doesn't really matter since you will be on unknown territory no matter what. You spend some time in quiet contemplation.
Eventually, you settle for the smallest soul, the one that you feel happiness from, if for no other reason than that you yourself are lacking in that regard. You beckon towards the spark and it floats towards you almost eagerly. Gently, you encompass it with your mind and will, tugging it along as you begin to close your senses and shut out the Flame.
You open your eyes and lift your hands from the bonfire, a small, white flame now dancing merrily in your palms. You let out a deep breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.
Success.
"Well done."
You turn to the side to see the Firekeeper smiling at you. She briefly stares at the white flame you're holding in your hands, while briefly holding her own above it. When she pulls her hand back, she nods as if she's just confirmed something to herself, then lifts her head to look at you again.
"A kind spark, bright and innocent in life," she says quietly, before giving you another smile. "Thou chose well."
You look at the white flame, a small part of your mind reeling from the realisation that that is someone's soul you're holding, and hope she is right. You look at the Keeper.
"What do I do now?"
She places her hand on your shoulder. "Now, 'tis time for it and thee to awaken, if thou art willing."
You give an affirmative nod. "I am," you say, while trying to ignore the growing feeling of wary anticipation building up in your stomach. Though you no longer doubt that the Firekeeper is benign, not after receiving the piece of the Flame that now warms you from within, the prospect of going back to your life and leaving this quiet but peaceful shrine behind suddenly seems daunting.
The Firekeeper beckons you to follow as she walks towards the most intact piece of the ruined wall, in which sits the shrine's sole remaining undamaged archway. As the both of you come to a halt in front of it, you wonder what she wants with it.
Your confusion only grows when she waves her hand, causing the archway to suddenly be filled with a thick curtain of greyish, white fog, a veritable wall that your eyes cannot pierce through.
"When thou art ready, thou needst but walk through this gate of fog and thou shalt find thyself back whence thou camest, dreaming no longer and amongst the living once more," the Firekeeper explains, when she sees your confused face.
You look at the gate and swallow hard, for it suddenly looks a lot more imposing, like it is looming over you threateningly and could swallow you whole at any moment. The thought of something swallowing you send a flash of pain through your head and you wince, a brief image of teeth flashing before your eyes. Cold sweat breaks out on your forehead and you lift one hand unconsciously to your throat.
"Child?"
You shake yourself free from your sudden panic and glance to the side to see the Firekeeper leaning towards you with a worried look on her face, her hands folded protectively on her breast.
"It's… it's nothing," you say, more so to convince yourself than her. "Something distracted me, is all. You say I have to just walk through this fog? Do I take the spark with me?"
The Firekeeper looks at you doubtfully, clearly not convinced, but is polite enough to not push the matter since you clearly don't want to linger on it. "It is as I said, thou needst but pass through the gate to awaken," she replies. "As for the spark, I would ask that thou crossest first, so as to light a path for it to follow to thy realm. I shall hold on to it for thee until then, then send it thy way once thou hast made the crossing successfully."
You look between the spark, the billowing wall of fog and the Firekeeper, taking a brief moment to let her words sink in, then nod and carefully hold out your hands to offer her the white flame. She takes it from you gingerly, handling it with the same delicate care you did, as if it a precious treasure made from the most fragile of materials; which you suppose it very well might be.
Once the small soul is safely within her hands, you step back and cast a glance towards the waiting gate, then look back at the Firekeeper. You take a deep breath.
"I… I suppose this is it, then?" you mutter, your hands fiddling nervously with the hem of your new cloak.
"Aye," the Firekeeper nods, smiling. "Thy life is waiting for thee to reclaim it."
A plethora of different and conflicting emotions wells up inside of you and for a moment you are overwhelmed, your composure failing. When you think about what happened to you and what you are about to do, it defies all logic and expectation. You died, bitterly and mercilessly, yet decided that that wasn't life changing enough of an event, for now here you stand, ready to come back to life. Because a complete and utter stranger wanted to give you a second chance, for no other reason than the kindness of their heart.
You don't know what you did to deserve it.
You look up at the Firekeeper, a small smile on your quivering lips, and give her a helpless shrug. "I can't find the words to thank you for what you did for me," you say apologetically, before your voice breaks and words fail you.
A strangled noise, something between a laugh and a choked sob, escapes you while fresh tears well up in your eyes. The Firekeeper smiles in return and shakes her head, then reaches out with one hand to cup your cheek. With her thumb she brushes some of your tears away.
"No thanks are necesary, child," she assures you. "Even if thou didst not come from the realm of the Flame, thou were a lost spark nevertheless. 't Was my duty and my desire to provide thee with what succor I could and so I did."
You lean your head into her hand. "But you gave me so much," you protest. "You gave me another chance at life, while I didn't even give you my name!"
"Child, I know who thou art," the Firekeeper replies, with the same kind of fond bemusement one has for someone they like who just said something silly.
"You do?"
She nods and the smile she gives you is positively radiant. "A friend."
You stare at her dumbfounded for a brief moment, then the last of your composure and sense of propriety breaks and you throw yourself at the woman, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Taken aback, she stumbles slightly, but recovers quickly, and returns your embrace with one arm - her other one still holding out the white soul. She smiles down at you, ever kind, while you bury your face in her robes, the scent of fire and ash filling your nose.
The two of you stay like that for some time. Within her embrace you feel safe, with even the spicy scent of ash in her clothes serving as a welcome source of warmth and comfort. For a brief moment, you actually feel like a child again and think of your mother for the first time in a long while.
Eventually, however, the moment passes and you break apart again. You look up at her masked face, not knowing what to say.
"Remember, child," she says, her fingers gently touching your chin. "Shouldst thou ever find thyself in need of momentary relief from thy struggles, recall this sanctuary in thy dreams and thou shalt find me there. Always."
You can only nod as your lips fail to form any words.
The Firekeeper doesn't seem to mind. She knows what you wish to say even if you cannot say it out loud. She briefly lays her hand atop your head, then gently nudges you towards the gate.
"Go now," she whispers. "Thy life awaits."
You hurriedly do as she tells you and turn to the mist filled archway, knowing that if you wait any longer you'll just end up crying again. The gate looms before you, still as imposing as before. You watch as the roiling fog forms thin wisps that look like pale, ghastly fingers beckoning you closer. A shiver runs down your spine as the image of a Witch's barrier flashes through your mind.
You hesitate and almost even taken a step back, but you catch yourself before that can happen. You take a deep breath and gather your courage, sending out a firm mental declaration that you will not let yourself be frightened.
Yes, what lies before you is unknown. You have no way of knowing if your second attempt at life will go any better than the first and yes, that lack of certainty is scary. But you can not, will not, let yourself be cowed by fear of this uncertainty. You are Tomoe Mami, a veteran magical girl and you have taken these leaps of faith countless times before, such as every time you entered a Witch's barrier.
Yes, that didn't end well the last time, you are all too painfully aware of that. But you have a chance to make up for that now and you will take it. You will face the unknown, the uncertainty, because as frightening as it might be, the future being uncertain is simply a part of life and to face it, to push through despite your fears is to be alive. And you...
You. Will. Live!
With your mind made up, you cast one last glance over your shoulder at the Firekeeper, who sends you an encouraging nod. Enboldened and feeling as ready as you are ever going to get, you approach the waiting wall of mist. Time for the moment of truth, to see if all of this is real or if it has just been a cruel delusion of your dying mind all along.
You take a deep breath, steel your nerves and walk through the gate.
Touching your head, you discover that you are even wearing a headband like she does, that you can see through somehow despite it covering your eyes. You're not going to question how that works, nor do you wonder where these robes even come from; as a former magical girl, you're more than used to making clothes appear seemingly out of nowhere.
You just hope the headband doesn't get in the way of your ringlets, as you're quite attached to those. First thing to look at when you find a mirror, you decide.
One you are done checking out your new look, you turn your gaze up at the Firekeeper, who is regarding you with a patient, warm smile. The tears on her cheeks from before seem to have dried up, no doubt thanks to the heat of the fire you held, and her now empty hands are folded neatly if loosely together.
"'Tis done," she says. "How dost thou feel?"
You place your hand over your chest, to feel the steady beat of your heart. However, when you close your eyes to focus within, you can feel more than just your heart. There's something else there now as well, a glow, a warmth, a presence so soothing and comforting that any words would fail to properly capture its glory and splendor.
You open your eyes again and look back up to the Keeper. "Warm," you reply, smiling apologetically for the fact that you can't describe it any more adequately than that. "I feel warm."
The Firekeeper, however, nods her head knowingly, as if she understands perfectly what you meant from just that one simple word. Given how she was apparently made for and from the Flame she just shared with you, she actually most likely does, you realise.
"The flame of life has been lit within thee," she says. "It shall be with thee wheresoever thou goest, a blanket to shield thee from death's chill, a light to shelter thee in even the deepest darkness. Look but within and there thou shalt find ever now the strength thou needst, the comfort thou cravest, the hope thou requirest."
You glance at your hands, at the burn marks peeking out from underneath your new gloves and do not even feel upset or sad at the sight of the marred skin. Instead, the sight of it almost… comforts you, for it serves as both proof and reminder of the flame you now carry within.
"Thank you," you whisper quietly, giving her a grateful look from behind your new eye mask.
The Firekeeper inclines her head. "Thou art most welcome, child."
"... though, not that I wish to sound ungrateful or anything, but why the new clothes?" you ask, blinking at her curiously.
Her response is soft laughter, like the chimling of beautiful little bells, though she tries to hide it by covering her mouth with her hand. "Thou art a Firekeeper now," she explains, amused. "'Tis only right for thee to look the part, no?"
A fair point, you have to concede.
"Speaking of parts," you say as you rise to your feet. You look down at your feet as you move, not wanting to step on or trip over your new robes. They're rather long and drag on the ground, after all. "You did yours, so I should do mine. I will take a spark with me, as I promised, but…" You wring your hands together sheepishly. "How do I do that?"
The Firekeeper smiles patiently and gestures towards the bonfire.
"Reach inside the flame and thou shalt feel the souls that slumber. Call out to one that speaks to thee, after which thou but needst to lift it from the fire to set it free."
You nod and turn to the waiting flames. Before, being so near to a fire and its heat would have made you wary, but now, you have no fear, for you can feel the part of it that burns within you and know that this fire will not harm you. Thus, you do not even hesitate and put your hands into the flame, the same way you saw the Firekeeper do but a few moments earlier.
As expected, the flames do not burn you, merely make your hands tingle with pleasant warmth. With a small smile on your lips, you close your eyes for the next step, then tried to do as the Firekeeper had instructed and feel.
It's not as hard as you expected. The moment you open your senses, you are nearly overwhelmed by the amount of life you feel within the fire. It is the same as the warmth you felt within you, but greater, an inferno compared to the lit matchstick that is the flame of your life.
It is awe inspiring, as well as more than a little intimidating. You actually feel tiny and insignificant for a moment, before you defiantly push those feelings away. Now is not the time to be impressed, humbling though the experience is. You have a task to fulfill.
You try to block out the presence of the Flame itself and instead try to look closer, to discern the individual drops of water that make up the sea, so to speak. This proves not as simple as detecting the Flame itself was, but neither was making muskets out of energy ribbons, and you mastered that until it became trivial and second nature. So you open your senses even further, will yourself to see these sparks, to hear their thoughts as they slumber.
And you do.
You see the flames within the Flame, all fragments of a greater whole, yet each is alive on their own, you can feel it. Not alive in the literal sense, like you, but they exist, the essence of what makes them, well, them is there, undiluted, unblemished. You're surprised to see that they come in varying sizes and colours, though on reflection you're not sure why you were, as it only makes sense that no individual is the same and that the souls would be shaped and formed depending on their experiences in life, right?
You shake your metaphysical head. You are getting distracted, while you still have a task to complete.
Remembering what the Firekeeper told you, you reach out to the sparks, trying to feel if any of them are close to waking, or are dreaming of it. Immediately, you sense a shift within the sea of life that is the Flame, as some of the sparks drift closer to you. Smiling, you call out to them, beckoning them closer with the promise of awakening, causing some to come even closer, close enough that you can get a glimpse of their… dreams? Thoughts?
You are not sure, but it gives you a faint impression of the souls before you nonetheless. A small one gives you an impression of happiness, while two golden flames radiate a feeling you know all too well: loneliness. One spark feels like two souls intertwined, with a vague impression of family, but it is hard to be certain.
You regard the sparks in your mind's eye, wondering which one to take with you. You have no idea what kind of people they belong to, what they will be like once awakened, so in that sense your choice doesn't really matter since you will be on unknown territory no matter what. You spend some time in quiet contemplation.
Eventually, you settle for the smallest soul, the one that you feel happiness from, if for no other reason than that you yourself are lacking in that regard. You beckon towards the spark and it floats towards you almost eagerly. Gently, you encompass it with your mind and will, tugging it along as you begin to close your senses and shut out the Flame.
You open your eyes and lift your hands from the bonfire, a small, white flame now dancing merrily in your palms. You let out a deep breath you didn't realise you'd been holding.
Success.
"Well done."
You turn to the side to see the Firekeeper smiling at you. She briefly stares at the white flame you're holding in your hands, while briefly holding her own above it. When she pulls her hand back, she nods as if she's just confirmed something to herself, then lifts her head to look at you again.
"A kind spark, bright and innocent in life," she says quietly, before giving you another smile. "Thou chose well."
You look at the white flame, a small part of your mind reeling from the realisation that that is someone's soul you're holding, and hope she is right. You look at the Keeper.
"What do I do now?"
She places her hand on your shoulder. "Now, 'tis time for it and thee to awaken, if thou art willing."
You give an affirmative nod. "I am," you say, while trying to ignore the growing feeling of wary anticipation building up in your stomach. Though you no longer doubt that the Firekeeper is benign, not after receiving the piece of the Flame that now warms you from within, the prospect of going back to your life and leaving this quiet but peaceful shrine behind suddenly seems daunting.
The Firekeeper beckons you to follow as she walks towards the most intact piece of the ruined wall, in which sits the shrine's sole remaining undamaged archway. As the both of you come to a halt in front of it, you wonder what she wants with it.
Your confusion only grows when she waves her hand, causing the archway to suddenly be filled with a thick curtain of greyish, white fog, a veritable wall that your eyes cannot pierce through.
"When thou art ready, thou needst but walk through this gate of fog and thou shalt find thyself back whence thou camest, dreaming no longer and amongst the living once more," the Firekeeper explains, when she sees your confused face.
You look at the gate and swallow hard, for it suddenly looks a lot more imposing, like it is looming over you threateningly and could swallow you whole at any moment. The thought of something swallowing you send a flash of pain through your head and you wince, a brief image of teeth flashing before your eyes. Cold sweat breaks out on your forehead and you lift one hand unconsciously to your throat.
"Child?"
You shake yourself free from your sudden panic and glance to the side to see the Firekeeper leaning towards you with a worried look on her face, her hands folded protectively on her breast.
"It's… it's nothing," you say, more so to convince yourself than her. "Something distracted me, is all. You say I have to just walk through this fog? Do I take the spark with me?"
The Firekeeper looks at you doubtfully, clearly not convinced, but is polite enough to not push the matter since you clearly don't want to linger on it. "It is as I said, thou needst but pass through the gate to awaken," she replies. "As for the spark, I would ask that thou crossest first, so as to light a path for it to follow to thy realm. I shall hold on to it for thee until then, then send it thy way once thou hast made the crossing successfully."
You look between the spark, the billowing wall of fog and the Firekeeper, taking a brief moment to let her words sink in, then nod and carefully hold out your hands to offer her the white flame. She takes it from you gingerly, handling it with the same delicate care you did, as if it a precious treasure made from the most fragile of materials; which you suppose it very well might be.
Once the small soul is safely within her hands, you step back and cast a glance towards the waiting gate, then look back at the Firekeeper. You take a deep breath.
"I… I suppose this is it, then?" you mutter, your hands fiddling nervously with the hem of your new cloak.
"Aye," the Firekeeper nods, smiling. "Thy life is waiting for thee to reclaim it."
A plethora of different and conflicting emotions wells up inside of you and for a moment you are overwhelmed, your composure failing. When you think about what happened to you and what you are about to do, it defies all logic and expectation. You died, bitterly and mercilessly, yet decided that that wasn't life changing enough of an event, for now here you stand, ready to come back to life. Because a complete and utter stranger wanted to give you a second chance, for no other reason than the kindness of their heart.
You don't know what you did to deserve it.
You look up at the Firekeeper, a small smile on your quivering lips, and give her a helpless shrug. "I can't find the words to thank you for what you did for me," you say apologetically, before your voice breaks and words fail you.
A strangled noise, something between a laugh and a choked sob, escapes you while fresh tears well up in your eyes. The Firekeeper smiles in return and shakes her head, then reaches out with one hand to cup your cheek. With her thumb she brushes some of your tears away.
"No thanks are necesary, child," she assures you. "Even if thou didst not come from the realm of the Flame, thou were a lost spark nevertheless. 't Was my duty and my desire to provide thee with what succor I could and so I did."
You lean your head into her hand. "But you gave me so much," you protest. "You gave me another chance at life, while I didn't even give you my name!"
"Child, I know who thou art," the Firekeeper replies, with the same kind of fond bemusement one has for someone they like who just said something silly.
"You do?"
She nods and the smile she gives you is positively radiant. "A friend."
You stare at her dumbfounded for a brief moment, then the last of your composure and sense of propriety breaks and you throw yourself at the woman, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Taken aback, she stumbles slightly, but recovers quickly, and returns your embrace with one arm - her other one still holding out the white soul. She smiles down at you, ever kind, while you bury your face in her robes, the scent of fire and ash filling your nose.
The two of you stay like that for some time. Within her embrace you feel safe, with even the spicy scent of ash in her clothes serving as a welcome source of warmth and comfort. For a brief moment, you actually feel like a child again and think of your mother for the first time in a long while.
Eventually, however, the moment passes and you break apart again. You look up at her masked face, not knowing what to say.
"Remember, child," she says, her fingers gently touching your chin. "Shouldst thou ever find thyself in need of momentary relief from thy struggles, recall this sanctuary in thy dreams and thou shalt find me there. Always."
You can only nod as your lips fail to form any words.
The Firekeeper doesn't seem to mind. She knows what you wish to say even if you cannot say it out loud. She briefly lays her hand atop your head, then gently nudges you towards the gate.
"Go now," she whispers. "Thy life awaits."
You hurriedly do as she tells you and turn to the mist filled archway, knowing that if you wait any longer you'll just end up crying again. The gate looms before you, still as imposing as before. You watch as the roiling fog forms thin wisps that look like pale, ghastly fingers beckoning you closer. A shiver runs down your spine as the image of a Witch's barrier flashes through your mind.
You hesitate and almost even taken a step back, but you catch yourself before that can happen. You take a deep breath and gather your courage, sending out a firm mental declaration that you will not let yourself be frightened.
Yes, what lies before you is unknown. You have no way of knowing if your second attempt at life will go any better than the first and yes, that lack of certainty is scary. But you can not, will not, let yourself be cowed by fear of this uncertainty. You are Tomoe Mami, a veteran magical girl and you have taken these leaps of faith countless times before, such as every time you entered a Witch's barrier.
Yes, that didn't end well the last time, you are all too painfully aware of that. But you have a chance to make up for that now and you will take it. You will face the unknown, the uncertainty, because as frightening as it might be, the future being uncertain is simply a part of life and to face it, to push through despite your fears is to be alive. And you...
You. Will. Live!
With your mind made up, you cast one last glance over your shoulder at the Firekeeper, who sends you an encouraging nod. Enboldened and feeling as ready as you are ever going to get, you approach the waiting wall of mist. Time for the moment of truth, to see if all of this is real or if it has just been a cruel delusion of your dying mind all along.
You take a deep breath, steel your nerves and walk through the gate.
---
AN: Feel free to point out if you feel I didn't portray Mami correctly here at any point in the chapter.
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Vote 2 - One or both?
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Waifu Vote: Results ~
---
~ Waifu Vote: Results ~
---
Well, the results are in for the first vote and boy was it interesting and not at all what I expected. Yorshka did not get as many votes as I expected, while the overwhelming support for Snuggly and Priscilla took me by surprise. I mean, I knew Priscilla was a popular fluffy waifu, but damn. I wasn't kidding when I said watching the vote was more tense than the last match of my country during the world cup football! Snuggly and Priscilla kept tying until the very end, it was amazing.
But as I said, a winner was decided, by a margin of just one vote: Snuggly the Crow!
Final vote tally:
[X] Snuggly the Crow
No. of votes: 22
Conjured Blade, NavySeel, Kkutlord, powergoat, Anann, Phasehand, veekie, Broken Base, UrsaTempest, wingstrike96, Raising Kittens, Khona Moshr, Warer, WMG, Felipe Melo, Onmur, TinyGladiator, Makarov, Billthesomething, RookDeSuit, HircumPrinceps, Drebom
[X] Crossbreed Priscilla
No. of votes: 21
Shadowhisker, Salbazier, tzeench, dragonx99, Hannz, Jiven, Jrin, Green[734], SETIFAN, Azerick01, Spector29, Kaizuki, The Phoenixian, kichithewolf, krahe, Astra Myst, Archon, Asael, FlamingB1rd, Quine, Ompa60
[X] Company Captain Yorshka
No. of votes: 3
Omniatrix, RJC1212, Stewart92
[X] Chaos Witch Quelaag & Quelaan
No. of votes: 0
So, that's that. Mami will first meet the peppy bird. However, because Snuggly won with only one vote over Priscilla, I'm inserting a second vote!
---
~ Vote for the Fluff ~
---
~ Vote for the Fluff ~
---
This is a very simple vote. Because Snuggly and Priscilla were so closely tied, I'm letting you vote for whether you want both waifus right now or not. Well, I say 'right now', but Priscilla is still going to have to wait a little bit even if you vote yes. She will appear sooner than she would have otherwise, however, but I do want some time for Snuggly first.
So, voting time! Do you want both Priscilla and Snuggly, or not?
[ ] Fluff for the fluff god! Give us both now! (a.k.a "yes")
[ ] Feathers are all I need in my laifu! Only one waifu! (a.k.a "no")
Omake: Homura's Battleplan
TinyGladiator
Just another SVer
- Location
- I move alot.
"Okay Homura, run me through what we need to do again?"
"First, Kyoko is going to be setting up some Warmth safe spots in secluded areas around the city, while making sure none of the Familiars get even close to them."
"Got it."
"Sayaka is going to be at the front-lines against the familiars with her Moonlight Greatsword alongside Quelaag. Priscilla is going to flank them with her invisibility and Lifedrain them."
"Uh-huh."
"Mami is using her miracles and lightning bolts against Walpurgisnacht to hurt and stop her."
"I can do those too-"
"And I'm," Homura said, cutting her off. "Going to start off the fight by using those new 'Pursuers' and 'Climax' hexes Snuggly gave us-"
"Rawrp! Yay, I did a help!"
"That you did Snuggly, yes. Now, do you remember what you should do, Snuggly?"
"Uhh... 'Stay in place with cuddly floaty warm orbs with the white bug lady, the not fluffy dragon lady, the fighty warm fire girl n' Dyna an Tillo'?" she answered as Madoka began petting her.
"White spider lady," Homura corrected. "But yes, that's your job. Good crow."
"And if I be good Snuggly then you gives more warm blankies?"
"As many as you want if you do stay there, yes."
Snuggly looked like she'd explode with happiness.
"Yay!" she said as she flapped away.
"Anyway, I'll start the fight by launching as many hexes as possible while time has stopped, using some grief seeds to power them. Then I'll drink some of those awful crimson drinks that Dyna and Tillo gave and launch more spells. I'll do this as long as possible until I need to restart time again or run low on grief seeds."
"And what am I doing?"
"You're gonna stay away from the fight and the familiars. I'll stop time and bring you to anyone that's injured, then you can heal them and shield them, and I'll bring you right back here. Understood?"
"But if one gets close I can zap them with my Lightning Arrow spell-"
"Understood?"
"Y-yeah, I'll, uh, try my best to remember all those stories to cast the spells."
"Good. Remember to regularly cast Tears of Denial on yourself, too."
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Rekindling - 3
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
---
Vote this time was pretty clear: a lot of you want more waifu. Can't really say much more about that other than you'll have your fluffy tailed overlady, eventually. Onwards!
---
Rekindling - 3The journey back to the waking world, as the Firekeeper called it, is a very different experience from when you wandered through the sea of fog until you stumbled onto the ruins of the shrine, mostly because it turns out to be not much of a journey at all. With the same ease with which one walks through a door to leave one room and enter the next, you emerge on the other side of the fog gate in literally no time at all to find yourself somewhere else entirely.
Gone are the ruined walls and the brightly burning bonfire; instead you are now standing underneath a street lamp of a seemingly mostly empty parking lot. From what you can see in the neon light, there's only a handful of cars left and not a single person to be found. It does appear to be nighttime, however, so the lack of people only makes sense. The star-filled sky stretched out above you looks very familiar, which you take as a heartening sign that you are indeed where the Firekeeper promised you'd be.
A look around quickly puts any further doubts to rest; near the exit of the parking lot you can see what you recognise as the backside of Mitakihara's Hospital, meaning this is the same parking lot where you entered the Witch's Barrier in which you d-died. Which would mean that the Firekeeper really was as genuine and benign as you want to believe she was. Oh, there's still some doubt niggling at the back of your mind, of course, that will probably take some time to fully disperse, but for now, at first glance, it looks like you were right to believe.
You are back, just like she said you would be.
You look around, a mix of wildly varying emotions welling up inside of you as you marvel at the sight of an empty parking lot, as if it is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You breathe in the cold air of a late winter night and feel elated, as if it's the freshest, purest air that has ever graced your lungs. You place your hand on your chest and laugh as you feel your heartbeat.
You're home.
You're alive.
For a moment, you wonder if all of it was even real. If following Madoka, entering the Barrier, fighting the Witch and d-dying, if all of that really happened. You are standing in the exact same spot as where you left, after all. Was it all maybe just a nightmare?
A quick look down, however, pokes some impressive holes in that theory. You are still wearing your brand new Firekeeper garments, for one thing, and when you lift your hands to your face you can see the edges of the burn marks on your palms you received when accepting the flame peeking out from underneath your gloves. That in itself would have been damning enough, but you are also missing a ring on your finger and the hairpin with your soul gem on your head.
No, you were most definitely not dreaming.
Your mind reels when the full implication of what happened hits you. You died and just came back to life! Your legs grow weak under your body and your hands quickly latch onto the street lantern to keep yourself from falling. You died. You really died!
You. Were. Dead!
Before you can further sink into a full blown panic attack, however, you are saved by the self discipline born from many years spent fighting as a magical girl. Much as you want to break down, your combat-trained mind knows that this is not the time or place for it. If someone found you here alone at this time of night crying or shaking hysterically while dressed like you should be at the nearest medieval convention, there'll be some incredibly difficult questions heading your way, which you definitely do not need right now.
You regain the strength in your legs and control over your breathing. You need to get home right away, before you're discovered. Plus, now that you pay attention to it, it's actually rather cold outside, despite the thick garments you're wearing to keep you warm. You're also incredibly tired, which rather surprises you; after all, you were in 'eternal rest' for at least several hours, given the sun was still up when you entered the barrier.
Going home to where your bed is sounds very appealing right now.
You wrap your cloak tightly around yourself and start hurrying towards the exit. If you could still transform, this would be so much easier, as you could just hop across the rooftops to your apartment. Now, however, you just have to pray you don't run into anyone on your way back, or hope that they'll just assume you're a very talented cosplayer…
Gone are the ruined walls and the brightly burning bonfire; instead you are now standing underneath a street lamp of a seemingly mostly empty parking lot. From what you can see in the neon light, there's only a handful of cars left and not a single person to be found. It does appear to be nighttime, however, so the lack of people only makes sense. The star-filled sky stretched out above you looks very familiar, which you take as a heartening sign that you are indeed where the Firekeeper promised you'd be.
A look around quickly puts any further doubts to rest; near the exit of the parking lot you can see what you recognise as the backside of Mitakihara's Hospital, meaning this is the same parking lot where you entered the Witch's Barrier in which you d-died. Which would mean that the Firekeeper really was as genuine and benign as you want to believe she was. Oh, there's still some doubt niggling at the back of your mind, of course, that will probably take some time to fully disperse, but for now, at first glance, it looks like you were right to believe.
You are back, just like she said you would be.
You look around, a mix of wildly varying emotions welling up inside of you as you marvel at the sight of an empty parking lot, as if it is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You breathe in the cold air of a late winter night and feel elated, as if it's the freshest, purest air that has ever graced your lungs. You place your hand on your chest and laugh as you feel your heartbeat.
You're home.
You're alive.
For a moment, you wonder if all of it was even real. If following Madoka, entering the Barrier, fighting the Witch and d-dying, if all of that really happened. You are standing in the exact same spot as where you left, after all. Was it all maybe just a nightmare?
A quick look down, however, pokes some impressive holes in that theory. You are still wearing your brand new Firekeeper garments, for one thing, and when you lift your hands to your face you can see the edges of the burn marks on your palms you received when accepting the flame peeking out from underneath your gloves. That in itself would have been damning enough, but you are also missing a ring on your finger and the hairpin with your soul gem on your head.
No, you were most definitely not dreaming.
Your mind reels when the full implication of what happened hits you. You died and just came back to life! Your legs grow weak under your body and your hands quickly latch onto the street lantern to keep yourself from falling. You died. You really died!
You. Were. Dead!
Before you can further sink into a full blown panic attack, however, you are saved by the self discipline born from many years spent fighting as a magical girl. Much as you want to break down, your combat-trained mind knows that this is not the time or place for it. If someone found you here alone at this time of night crying or shaking hysterically while dressed like you should be at the nearest medieval convention, there'll be some incredibly difficult questions heading your way, which you definitely do not need right now.
You regain the strength in your legs and control over your breathing. You need to get home right away, before you're discovered. Plus, now that you pay attention to it, it's actually rather cold outside, despite the thick garments you're wearing to keep you warm. You're also incredibly tired, which rather surprises you; after all, you were in 'eternal rest' for at least several hours, given the sun was still up when you entered the barrier.
Going home to where your bed is sounds very appealing right now.
You wrap your cloak tightly around yourself and start hurrying towards the exit. If you could still transform, this would be so much easier, as you could just hop across the rooftops to your apartment. Now, however, you just have to pray you don't run into anyone on your way back, or hope that they'll just assume you're a very talented cosplayer…
---
It seems that for once luck is on your side, for you make it all the way back to your apartment without encountering a single soul. There is a brief moment of panic when you realise the front door is locked and that you don't have your school uniform or school bag with your house key with you, but that moment quickly passes when you find it tucked away in one of the folds of your robe, for some reason.
Given everything that has happened to you, however, this seems like such an inconsequential thing to worry about, even if you weren't too tired to do so anyway. So you do not question why the key was in your new clothes that you got in a dream and somehow transitioned into the real world with you, but simply use it for the purpose it was made for, open your door and head inside.
"I'm home," you say, despite knowing there is no reason for anyone to be waiting for you.
As expected, your apartment remains eerily quiet. You sigh and try not to feel disappointed as you struggle to take off the new leather boots that came with your Firekeeper outfit. You know it is unreasonable and unrealistic, but even so you were still hoping against hope that at least Kyubey would be here to welcome you back.
Now that you are safely within the walls of your own home and you no longer need to watch out for anyone who could see you, you can finally drop your guard and relax. The moment you do, your shoulders slump under the weight of exhaustion falling on your body and you stumble in your step. You are too tired at the moment to even have your breakdown, you just want to sleep.
Much as you would like to head straight for your bed and fall down, however, you manage to steer yourself towards the bathroom first to at least get changed into your proper night attire. You don't even bother to switch on the light in the hallway, as you know the layout of your home like the back of your hand. You do turn on the light in the bathroom, however, and blink against its brightness as it hits your eyes despite your mask.
Ever so slowly, you begin to take off your new clothes, realising with some disappointment that you can't just make them vanish like you could your magical girl outfit. You start with your eyemask, noticing only now that you can see it that it is silver instead of the gold one the Firekeeper was wearing. You shrug it of as not very important, silver or gold, it's pretty either way, and still weird how you can see through it despite it having no eye holes.
As you shrug off the coat draped over your shoulders and begin to undo the laces of your new robe, you briefly pause to glance at yourself in the mirror. It's odd to see yourself in these clothes, though from what your tired eyes can see you do wear them well. A glance at your hair confirms that your soul gem truly is gone.
You knew this was the case, but it is still disheartening to get visual confirmation. You sigh, but decide to think no further on it for now. Right now, all that matters is getting into your bed.
You're halfway into figuring out how to take off your robe properly without damaging it, when you glance fleetingly at your reflection in the mirror and your mind suddenly comes to a screeching halt when your eyes get caught on something. Before, you weren't able to see your neck, not with your cloak wrapped around it. Now that you've taken that off as well as your robe, you can see your its pale, smooth and umblemished skin just fine.
Only, it is not unblemished anymore.
You can clearly see what looks like a dark line going around your neck roughly a few inches above where it meets your shoulders. Suddenly, all tiredness and thoughts of going to bed are forgotten, as all your attention is drawn towards this mark on your skin that wasn't there when you got up this morning.
Slowly, you get closer to the mirror, wanting to get a better look at it, even as your heartbeat starts beating faster, your breath is coming in increasingly shorter, more panicky bursts and cold sweat breaks out all over your skin. Pain flashes through your head as memories of your final fight against a Witch unbiddenly rise from your memory.
Your face is almost pressed up against the mirror now and you can clearly see that the dark line isn't some kind of mark or tattoo or dirt. It is jagged and erratic in form and as you reach up with trembling fingers to touch it, you can feel it is actually an indent on your skin.
It's a scar.
A scar that encircles your entire neck and looks like the result of a vicious wound made when something forcibly parted flesh from flesh.
Your eyes are wide now, your pupils as tiny as pinpricks. The robe you were clutching in your hands now lies forgotten on the floor. Your head is throbbing, while your chest is going up and down rapidly to the rhythm of your erratic breathing.
When you woke up in that misty field, there were gaps in your recollection of your final moments. You knew you'd died fighting a Witch, but you could not remember how it had happened. Now, however, the image comes to you with agonising clarity, of your terrified face as the horrifying realisation dawned on you that the Witch you thought you'd killed wasn't dead, when a gaping maw lined with razor sharp teeth opened up right before your eyes in an almost cartoonesque, demented mockery of a smile.
Then, a flash of excruciating pain and the taste of blood, followed by darkness.
You stumble and barely manage to reach the toilet bowl in time before you retch and empty your stomach into the toilet. You heave miserably as your stomach rebels, even though there is nothing inside and all that passes your lips is some sour bile. Your entire body is shaking and your skin drenched in sweat, while your lungs cry out desperately for air. Your stomach doesn't relent, however, spurred on by the nauseating, sickening realisation festering in your mind of what that scar around your neck means.
Your head.
She bit off your head!
Another set of heaves has you struggling to support yourself on trembling arms above the bowl, even as you break out into hysterical sobs, with your nose dripping and tears flowing from your eyes like a river breaking through a dam. Eventually your stomach does realise it is holding nothing inside, making the retching subside, and you collapse upon the bathroom floor into a wailing, hysterical heap.
You screech and howl in agony, your hands tearing at your head as the image of those gleaming teeth and their demented grin replays itself before your eyes over and over and over again, hacking away at your sanity as your body is assaulted by the memory of your final seconds spent in excruciating pain.
SHE. BIT. OFF. YOUR. HEAD!!!
Never before in your life have you been in this much pain; even when you lost your parents, it was not the same. The memory haunts you relentlessly, no matter how hard you try to push it away or want to forget it again. Your head is pounding, a physical pain as agonising as the mental one you're experiencing, and you feel utterly sick, your entire body drenched in cold sweat and shivering uncontrollably.
Eventually, your hysterical crying begins to die down as your tired body can no longer keep up the exhaustive activity and you curl up into a softly whimpering ball of misery on the floor. Lying there, while the silence settles back into your home, you feel more lonely and isolated than ever. You cry out in quiet desperation for help, for someone, anyone, to come to your aid, to pick you up and hold you and tell you that everything will be alright, but nobody comes.
You are alone, just like before.
The scar around your neck feels like it's burning with how aware of it you are. What really, truly agonises you, however, isn't so much the fact that it's there as ghastly proof of the gruesome end you suffered, as what it represents. It is a reminder of your perpetual loneliness, of how the world punished you for thinking you did not have to be alone anymore. You will never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again and not be reminded of how your own hubris cost you your life.
You hate it, as much as you hate yourself.
As you bury your tear-stained face in your hands and weep, you begin to question why you are here, what made you think that it was a good idea to return. Nothing has changed; you are as lonely as you were before, only now forever physically marred with a reminder of that bitter truth. Life literally beat you to death with it, so what made you think it would be any different the second time around? You are alone, you always will be, there is no one-
Within you, something ignites.
A spark that becomes a small flame, like a tiny and fragile but beautiful flower unfolding its petals. You can feel it, centered in your chest, a source of warmth and a beacon of desperately needed light against the cold, merciless darkness of the abyss of self-loathing and hurt that threatens to consume you. You are reminded of the ruined shrine, of the song the Firekeeper played on her harp and the words she spoke to you when she reignited the fire of life within you.
"Look but within and there thou shalt find ever now the strength thou needst, the comfort thou cravest, the hope thou requirest."
You cannot believe you already lost sight of so recent a memory and you cling to the words like a drowning man does to driftwood. The flame is small, especially when compared to the heavy turmoil that looms over you like a storm cloud, but you soak in its warmth and drink its light with an almost manic desperation nevertheless. You don't have a choice; it is all you have, all that prevents you from going insane.
But it is enough.
You are no longer alone, you tell - no, desperately try to convince - yourself. Even if you are worlds apart, the flame within you is proof of your bond with the Fire and with its Keeper, proof that there will always be at least one friend you can turn to out there. She promised, after all, and you believe her. You have to believe her, because to do otherwise would destroy you.
Slowly, by desperately clutching your piece of the Flame to your chest, you are able to return to a calmer, more rational state of mind. You uncurl yourself on the floor and eventually manage to get yourself back on your feet. Your reflection greets you as before, the sight of the scar luring another whimper from your throat, but you manage to suppress any further negative feelings well enough to move past them.
Ignoring the scar, your entire appearance is a mess regardless. Your hair is completely disheveled, your face stained with drying tears and snot and your skin still looks too pale to be considered healthy. You are, however, too tired to care. You are complete and utterly spent and all you want right now is to go to bed.
You finish disrobing, leaving your Firekeeper garments on the floor as you are too exhausted to pick them up and put them away properly and quickly slip on your nightgown. Without even brushing your hair as you usually do, you exit the bathroom and stumble your way to your bedroom.
Finally, you climb under the familiar, welcoming covers of your bed, but not before grabbing a spare pillow which you hug to your chest with near bone crushing force. As you lay in your bed, you hold onto your inner flame the entire time like a lifeline, unable to go without it and even then, there are still moments when you burst back into tears or quiet, whimpering sobs.
Eventually, you manage to drift off to sleep.
Given everything that has happened to you, however, this seems like such an inconsequential thing to worry about, even if you weren't too tired to do so anyway. So you do not question why the key was in your new clothes that you got in a dream and somehow transitioned into the real world with you, but simply use it for the purpose it was made for, open your door and head inside.
"I'm home," you say, despite knowing there is no reason for anyone to be waiting for you.
As expected, your apartment remains eerily quiet. You sigh and try not to feel disappointed as you struggle to take off the new leather boots that came with your Firekeeper outfit. You know it is unreasonable and unrealistic, but even so you were still hoping against hope that at least Kyubey would be here to welcome you back.
Now that you are safely within the walls of your own home and you no longer need to watch out for anyone who could see you, you can finally drop your guard and relax. The moment you do, your shoulders slump under the weight of exhaustion falling on your body and you stumble in your step. You are too tired at the moment to even have your breakdown, you just want to sleep.
Much as you would like to head straight for your bed and fall down, however, you manage to steer yourself towards the bathroom first to at least get changed into your proper night attire. You don't even bother to switch on the light in the hallway, as you know the layout of your home like the back of your hand. You do turn on the light in the bathroom, however, and blink against its brightness as it hits your eyes despite your mask.
Ever so slowly, you begin to take off your new clothes, realising with some disappointment that you can't just make them vanish like you could your magical girl outfit. You start with your eyemask, noticing only now that you can see it that it is silver instead of the gold one the Firekeeper was wearing. You shrug it of as not very important, silver or gold, it's pretty either way, and still weird how you can see through it despite it having no eye holes.
As you shrug off the coat draped over your shoulders and begin to undo the laces of your new robe, you briefly pause to glance at yourself in the mirror. It's odd to see yourself in these clothes, though from what your tired eyes can see you do wear them well. A glance at your hair confirms that your soul gem truly is gone.
You knew this was the case, but it is still disheartening to get visual confirmation. You sigh, but decide to think no further on it for now. Right now, all that matters is getting into your bed.
You're halfway into figuring out how to take off your robe properly without damaging it, when you glance fleetingly at your reflection in the mirror and your mind suddenly comes to a screeching halt when your eyes get caught on something. Before, you weren't able to see your neck, not with your cloak wrapped around it. Now that you've taken that off as well as your robe, you can see your its pale, smooth and umblemished skin just fine.
Only, it is not unblemished anymore.
You can clearly see what looks like a dark line going around your neck roughly a few inches above where it meets your shoulders. Suddenly, all tiredness and thoughts of going to bed are forgotten, as all your attention is drawn towards this mark on your skin that wasn't there when you got up this morning.
Slowly, you get closer to the mirror, wanting to get a better look at it, even as your heartbeat starts beating faster, your breath is coming in increasingly shorter, more panicky bursts and cold sweat breaks out all over your skin. Pain flashes through your head as memories of your final fight against a Witch unbiddenly rise from your memory.
Your face is almost pressed up against the mirror now and you can clearly see that the dark line isn't some kind of mark or tattoo or dirt. It is jagged and erratic in form and as you reach up with trembling fingers to touch it, you can feel it is actually an indent on your skin.
It's a scar.
A scar that encircles your entire neck and looks like the result of a vicious wound made when something forcibly parted flesh from flesh.
Your eyes are wide now, your pupils as tiny as pinpricks. The robe you were clutching in your hands now lies forgotten on the floor. Your head is throbbing, while your chest is going up and down rapidly to the rhythm of your erratic breathing.
When you woke up in that misty field, there were gaps in your recollection of your final moments. You knew you'd died fighting a Witch, but you could not remember how it had happened. Now, however, the image comes to you with agonising clarity, of your terrified face as the horrifying realisation dawned on you that the Witch you thought you'd killed wasn't dead, when a gaping maw lined with razor sharp teeth opened up right before your eyes in an almost cartoonesque, demented mockery of a smile.
Then, a flash of excruciating pain and the taste of blood, followed by darkness.
You stumble and barely manage to reach the toilet bowl in time before you retch and empty your stomach into the toilet. You heave miserably as your stomach rebels, even though there is nothing inside and all that passes your lips is some sour bile. Your entire body is shaking and your skin drenched in sweat, while your lungs cry out desperately for air. Your stomach doesn't relent, however, spurred on by the nauseating, sickening realisation festering in your mind of what that scar around your neck means.
Your head.
She bit off your head!
Another set of heaves has you struggling to support yourself on trembling arms above the bowl, even as you break out into hysterical sobs, with your nose dripping and tears flowing from your eyes like a river breaking through a dam. Eventually your stomach does realise it is holding nothing inside, making the retching subside, and you collapse upon the bathroom floor into a wailing, hysterical heap.
You screech and howl in agony, your hands tearing at your head as the image of those gleaming teeth and their demented grin replays itself before your eyes over and over and over again, hacking away at your sanity as your body is assaulted by the memory of your final seconds spent in excruciating pain.
SHE. BIT. OFF. YOUR. HEAD!!!
Never before in your life have you been in this much pain; even when you lost your parents, it was not the same. The memory haunts you relentlessly, no matter how hard you try to push it away or want to forget it again. Your head is pounding, a physical pain as agonising as the mental one you're experiencing, and you feel utterly sick, your entire body drenched in cold sweat and shivering uncontrollably.
Eventually, your hysterical crying begins to die down as your tired body can no longer keep up the exhaustive activity and you curl up into a softly whimpering ball of misery on the floor. Lying there, while the silence settles back into your home, you feel more lonely and isolated than ever. You cry out in quiet desperation for help, for someone, anyone, to come to your aid, to pick you up and hold you and tell you that everything will be alright, but nobody comes.
You are alone, just like before.
The scar around your neck feels like it's burning with how aware of it you are. What really, truly agonises you, however, isn't so much the fact that it's there as ghastly proof of the gruesome end you suffered, as what it represents. It is a reminder of your perpetual loneliness, of how the world punished you for thinking you did not have to be alone anymore. You will never be able to look at yourself in the mirror again and not be reminded of how your own hubris cost you your life.
You hate it, as much as you hate yourself.
As you bury your tear-stained face in your hands and weep, you begin to question why you are here, what made you think that it was a good idea to return. Nothing has changed; you are as lonely as you were before, only now forever physically marred with a reminder of that bitter truth. Life literally beat you to death with it, so what made you think it would be any different the second time around? You are alone, you always will be, there is no one-
Within you, something ignites.
A spark that becomes a small flame, like a tiny and fragile but beautiful flower unfolding its petals. You can feel it, centered in your chest, a source of warmth and a beacon of desperately needed light against the cold, merciless darkness of the abyss of self-loathing and hurt that threatens to consume you. You are reminded of the ruined shrine, of the song the Firekeeper played on her harp and the words she spoke to you when she reignited the fire of life within you.
"Look but within and there thou shalt find ever now the strength thou needst, the comfort thou cravest, the hope thou requirest."
You cannot believe you already lost sight of so recent a memory and you cling to the words like a drowning man does to driftwood. The flame is small, especially when compared to the heavy turmoil that looms over you like a storm cloud, but you soak in its warmth and drink its light with an almost manic desperation nevertheless. You don't have a choice; it is all you have, all that prevents you from going insane.
But it is enough.
You are no longer alone, you tell - no, desperately try to convince - yourself. Even if you are worlds apart, the flame within you is proof of your bond with the Fire and with its Keeper, proof that there will always be at least one friend you can turn to out there. She promised, after all, and you believe her. You have to believe her, because to do otherwise would destroy you.
Slowly, by desperately clutching your piece of the Flame to your chest, you are able to return to a calmer, more rational state of mind. You uncurl yourself on the floor and eventually manage to get yourself back on your feet. Your reflection greets you as before, the sight of the scar luring another whimper from your throat, but you manage to suppress any further negative feelings well enough to move past them.
Ignoring the scar, your entire appearance is a mess regardless. Your hair is completely disheveled, your face stained with drying tears and snot and your skin still looks too pale to be considered healthy. You are, however, too tired to care. You are complete and utterly spent and all you want right now is to go to bed.
You finish disrobing, leaving your Firekeeper garments on the floor as you are too exhausted to pick them up and put them away properly and quickly slip on your nightgown. Without even brushing your hair as you usually do, you exit the bathroom and stumble your way to your bedroom.
Finally, you climb under the familiar, welcoming covers of your bed, but not before grabbing a spare pillow which you hug to your chest with near bone crushing force. As you lay in your bed, you hold onto your inner flame the entire time like a lifeline, unable to go without it and even then, there are still moments when you burst back into tears or quiet, whimpering sobs.
Eventually, you manage to drift off to sleep.
---
You awake after a long, uninterrupted and dreamless sleep, feeling surprisingly well rested. As you rub your half-lidded eyes, you glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table and see that it is already far past your usual waking hour, a fact supported by the bright sunlight illuminating the room despite your closed curtains. You briefly consider turning around and going back to sleep, but ultimately decide against it.
Quietly you slip out of bed, pausing briefly to let out a big and rather unladylike yawn. You exit your bedroom, barefooted, and make a beeline for the kitchen. Normally, you go fresh up in the bathroom first, but you don't want to be confronted with your reflection again just yet. You want to pretend blissful unawareness at least a little bit longer, not yet awake nor ready enough to think back on last night's discovery.
Stumbling into the kitchen, you pass by the digital clock on the counter on your way to the fridge, not really paying attention to the time displayed on its screen. That changes when your brain, which was still half-asleep, finishes processing the visual information it received from your eyes and makes a rather alarming observation.
Turning your head back to the clock so fast it's a miracle you don't dislocate it, you take another, more attentive look at its screen. It's not the time that has your interest, though, but the date displayed above it.
When you emerged onto the parking lot yesterday and discovered it was night, you had assumed only a few hours had passed in this world since you died, or perhaps a day at most. According to the date presented on the clock, however, this is not the case at all.
You've been dead for a week.
Quietly you slip out of bed, pausing briefly to let out a big and rather unladylike yawn. You exit your bedroom, barefooted, and make a beeline for the kitchen. Normally, you go fresh up in the bathroom first, but you don't want to be confronted with your reflection again just yet. You want to pretend blissful unawareness at least a little bit longer, not yet awake nor ready enough to think back on last night's discovery.
Stumbling into the kitchen, you pass by the digital clock on the counter on your way to the fridge, not really paying attention to the time displayed on its screen. That changes when your brain, which was still half-asleep, finishes processing the visual information it received from your eyes and makes a rather alarming observation.
Turning your head back to the clock so fast it's a miracle you don't dislocate it, you take another, more attentive look at its screen. It's not the time that has your interest, though, but the date displayed above it.
When you emerged onto the parking lot yesterday and discovered it was night, you had assumed only a few hours had passed in this world since you died, or perhaps a day at most. According to the date presented on the clock, however, this is not the case at all.
You've been dead for a week.
---
AN: So, ehm, that got dark. But I assure you I will be giving Mami all the snuggles and hugs in the future to make up for it! Again, I hope I wrote the poor girl believably.
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Vote 3 - Your journey it began because you died
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
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~ Vote for the Fluff: Results ~
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~ Vote for the Fluff: Results ~
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Well, as I said before, the votes this time were pretty clear. Seems most of you really wanted fluffy tail too, so that's what you'll get. Here's the final result of the vote:
Final vote tally:
[X] Fluff for the fluff god! Give us both now! (a.k.a "yes")
No. of votes: 26
UrsaTempest, Shadowhisker, Jrin, Astra Myst, krahe, Billthesomething, NavySeel, tzeench, Jiven, Ompa60, SETIFAN, kichithewolf, dragonx99, TinyGladiator, Higure, tygerbright, WMG, Makarov, Salbazier, Broken Base, Thotful Salad, Lord Chungus, Walker of the Yellow Path, obssesednuker, Spector29, Xaldreca
[x] Feathers are all I need in my laifu! Only one waifu! (a.k.a "no")
No. of votes: 11
Conjured Blade, wingstrike96, Misdreamer, Raising Kittens, Onmur, powergoat, RookDeSuit, Drebom, tapkomet, veekie, Theaxofwar
Not much more I can say about this. You will get Priscilla in due time, as I promised, though snuggly will still come first. Please do be patient, it can take some updates before fluffy tails finally shows up, I do need to set up the story properly, after all. Ideas are solidifying in my head as to how introduce both our snuggles and our fluffs, so no worries there.
Now, however, it's time for some more important matters…
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~ Because You Died ~
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~ Because You Died ~
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Well, my fellow waifu lovers, here we are. You've escaped the undead asylum, reached the Firelink Shrine, and now it is time to set out into the world and find your destiny. By which I mean, time for you to decide what Mami will do next! And I do mean that you will get to decide amongst yourselves, as this will be a write-in vote.
Most of you know and understand Mami's character much better than I do, so, to write her properly, I'm looking towards you to guide me. Mami's died, but returned to life, a new day has begun and she discovered she's been dead for a week. So:
What will Mami do today?
In order for you to be able to make an informed decision, I'm going to give you some more information about Mami's current status, as well as the status of the PMMM world and where things stand in terms of the timeline. Hopefully these will help you decide on a course of action.
- Madoka: Not contracted, should be the same as canon timeline still.
- Sayaka: Not contracted yet. I'm not certain how many days passed in canon between Mami's death and Sayaka contracting, if it was more than a week or less. I apologise if this feels a bit like a cop out, but I decided to do it like this in order to keep all options with Sayaka open. She hasn't contracted yet, so you can still work on preventing that from happening!
- Kyoko: Hasn't moved to Mitakihara yet. Again, I don't know how much time passed between Mami's death and Kyoko's arrival in canon, nor am I certain how fast rumours and knowledge of Tomoe Mami's death would realistically spread. Another reason for this is that I also don't know what to do with Yuma yet, whether to include her or not. Need to think about it and could probably use some input on that.
- Homura: Saved Madoka and Sayaka from Charlotte after Mami died, like in canon. Is also starting to catch on that something's off when some events don't seem to take place when they should or not at all.
- Kyubey: Like everyone else, is convinced Mami died. Still trying to get Madoka and Sayaka to contract, still getting shot at by Homura.
- Mami: While for her seemingly no time passed at all, back on earth it's been a week since her death. Meaning her fridge might contain some spoilt food that she'll probably want to replace. A shopping trip for some groceries might be in order.
- Snuggly: Nowhere to be found yet.
That's how things currently stand as far as events on the timeline go. Now, a quick recap of Mami's current status:
So, I think that's roughly everything I needed to tell you guys for the next vote. Now, it's up to y'all! How does Mami proceed from here and spend her first day back from the dead? Does she seek out Madoka and Sayaka? Does she look for Kyubey? Does she lock herself up in her room and cry herself back to sleep? I leave it up to you. Discuss and debate, keep it nice and friendly and vote for your own write-in or someone else's.
Ehm, do try to not make your write-ins too elaborate in terms of activities. I never know how long an update is going to be, but considering it took me 3000+ words just to get Mami from the parking lot to her bed, I'd rather you decide on one or two or three activities instead of writing out a meticulously planned entire day schedule. I think shorter votes are better, as they mean quicker updates and a quicker chance at another vote.
This is my first write-in vote I'm offering and my first quest, so I'm still trying to find my feet a little, so please keep that in mind. ^^"
Now, voting time! How does Mami spend her morning/day?
[ ] Better restock that fridge. A shopping trip for some groceries might calm your mind.
[ ] Write-in.
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Rekindling - 4
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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Another pretty clear vote this time around. Seems all of you agree on finding appropriate attire to hide poor Mami's scars, then the majority decided to go for cleaning the apartment and restocking the fridge with a shopping trip, while keeping an eye out for the white rat.
---
Rekindling - 4For a while, you simply sit at the kitchen table with your hands in your still messy bed hair, to let the latest in what seems to be becoming a series of revelations specifically aimed to make the ground under your feet crumble sink in. So much for trying to start your day with even a semblance of normalcy. Who knew returning from the dead came with so many unsettling caveats? First the scars to forever visually remind you that, yes, you died - as if you could ever possibly forget that - and now this.
Once you're no longer reeling from the shock and have had some time to calmly process this new information, however, you conclude that in the grand scheme of things it's not that bad. Certainly, you now have to figure out what to tell people when they ask you where you've been for a week, but compared to everything else that seems like an almost trivial complaint.
Your biggest regret about this is that it means you've unintentionally saddled Madoka and Sayaka with a whole seven long days of recovering from the trauma of seeing you get so brutally b-butch- killed.
Thinking about your once would-be juniors causes you to bury your face in your hands.
What in the world are you going to do about those two poor girls? While it's true that you haven't known them for very long yet, you did play a part in getting them involved with the whole Magical Girl thing, promising to be their guide if they decided to become one themselves. Then the moment one of them actually said yes, you got yourself killed in front of their eyes in a spectacularly brutal fashion.
You try not to think about the teeth that flash before your eyes again and forcefully prevent your hands from touching your throat reflexively.
Something cold settles in the pit of your stomach as you remember something you realised back at the bonfire in the shrine: you don't even know if they're still alive! With you dead, they would have stood no chance against the Witch. Did your failure cost them their lives, too? Their only hope would have been if another Magical Girl came to their rescue, but what are the chances of th-
Akemi Homura.
She was there before you entered the barrier, you remember now with crystal clarity. It wasn't a friendly meeting and you recall restraining her with your ribbons, but you're certain that those would have vanished when you died. Meaning there is a chance she came to Madoka and Sayaka's rescue. At least, you dearly, sincerely hope that's the case.
The alternative is simply to horrifying for you to consider.
You let out a sigh of relief. It's not a certainty, but it's hope nonetheless. Hope that your failure at least only cost you and nobody else. It's enough to prevent you from suffering another breakdown and run out onto the street dressed as you are to look for them. You're not sure what would've been worse if you had done just that: the mortification, the chance at catching a cold or worse, or getting arrested for indecent exposure.
You shake your head; you're getting distracted.
First things first. A glance at the clock reveals that it is already seven minutes past ten in the morning, meaning it's high time for you to get some small breakfast and then treat your body to some further proper care with a shower and getting dressed for the day. After that, well… You'll decide once you're done with your current set of tasks.
Your first order of business is to make yourself some breakfast, but when you open the fridge you are hit with a firm reminder - as if you needed one - that you've been gone for seven days. You wrinkle your nose at the smell and sigh as you feel another headache coming up. While by no means everything you'd stored in there has gone bad, you nevertheless have to add 'grocery shopping' to the list of things you'll need to do today.
Fortunately, you always keep some dry food in stock in case of situations like these. Breakfast cereals aren't usually to your taste, but they're perfectly serviceable in an emergency and you're not feeling picky right now.
Fifteen minutes and one bowl of dry nutrition later you're off to the bathroom to make yourself look presentable again. You staunchly avoid looking so much as in the direction of the mirror as you pick up your Firekeeper garments from where you discarded on the floor them last night. You fold them as neatly as you can and put them on the bathroom stool for now, then finally undress and step into the shower.
Half a minute later, you're standing under a stream of wonderfully warm water, eyes closed in delight. For the first time since you died, you are finally able to fully relax, your mind completely blank as you listen to the monotone but soothing noise of the shower and its streams hitting your skin. You can practically feel the tension in your body flow away alongside the water. It is heavenly and just what you needed.
You're not ashamed to admit that you spend much more time than strictly necessary inside the shower, so when you finally do step out, the entire bathroom is nicely warm and steamy. You feel refreshed and much better about yourself, though you still need to wrap a towel around your neck to be able to look at yourself in the mirror when you dry and brush your hair.
Baby steps.
Once you've taken care of everything you need to in the bathroom, you take your Firekeeper garments and head to your bedroom to seek out some clothes to wear. The robes you received in the shrine are comfortable and you are grateful for them, but they're not fit to go outside in, sadly, as they'd just make you stand out too much. The last thing you want right now is to draw attention.
Speaking of standing out, it'd probably be for the best if you covered up your scars, especially the one on your neck. It is really noticeable even from afar and you're not at all comfortable with the idea of people seeing it and even less with them asking where you'd gotten it. Similarly, even though you don't feel as negative towards them as the scar on your neck, it'd be wise to cover up the burns on your hands just to avoid questions being asked about them.
These restrictions do mean a considerable portion of your wardrobe is unusable, a fact that quickly becomes apparent as you rummage through your drawers. You never even noticed before today that so many of your clothes lack a nice high collar.
Eventually, you settle for a nice wooly, cream-coloured turtleneck sweater that perfectly suits your neck-covering needs. You won't even look strange or unusual wearing it, since it can still be quite cold this time of year. As for your hands, you're pleased to find out that the fingerless leather gloves of your Firekeeper garments look quite inconspicuous when they are mostly hidden beneath the sleeves of your sweater. It also lets you wear a piece of the outfit the Firekeeper gave you even when in public, which is nice.
With all physical evidence of your death and resurrection thusly hidden, you quickly choose a matching warm skirt and thigh stockings to go with your sweater. After checking yourself out in the body mirror one last time to make sure that it all goes well together, you're finally ready for the day. You didn't even wince or feel too uncomfortable while looking at your reflection, meaning the sweater is doing its job nicely.
The you exiting your bedroom resembles your usual self a lot more than the one entering it, looking all ready to take on the day. You take a deep breath, free of tension, and even manage to get a little smile on your face. For the first time since you died and returned, you feel… If not happy, than at least more comfortable with yourself.
With breakfast, refreshing yourself and getting dressed now all taken care of, you check the next item on your mental to-do list: going shopping for groceries so you can cook up a more satisfying meal for yourself than dry breakfast cereals.
You almost decide to head out right there and then, but stop when you realise that it would probably better if you cleaned out the fridge first so that you actually have space to put your groceries when you come back from the store. As you look around your apartment, you decide that the fridge isn't the only thing in need of some cleaning. You're a tidy person who always keeps her home presentable, but even so you can clear signs of your weeklong absence while looking around. Nothing terrible, of course, mostly a thin layer of dust on everything, but it's still noticeable.
That just won't do.
The groceries can wait until you've made your apartment liveable again. You roll up your sleeves and march with determination to the cabinet where you store all your cleaning equipment.
Time for an early spring clean!
Once you're no longer reeling from the shock and have had some time to calmly process this new information, however, you conclude that in the grand scheme of things it's not that bad. Certainly, you now have to figure out what to tell people when they ask you where you've been for a week, but compared to everything else that seems like an almost trivial complaint.
Your biggest regret about this is that it means you've unintentionally saddled Madoka and Sayaka with a whole seven long days of recovering from the trauma of seeing you get so brutally b-butch- killed.
Thinking about your once would-be juniors causes you to bury your face in your hands.
What in the world are you going to do about those two poor girls? While it's true that you haven't known them for very long yet, you did play a part in getting them involved with the whole Magical Girl thing, promising to be their guide if they decided to become one themselves. Then the moment one of them actually said yes, you got yourself killed in front of their eyes in a spectacularly brutal fashion.
You try not to think about the teeth that flash before your eyes again and forcefully prevent your hands from touching your throat reflexively.
Something cold settles in the pit of your stomach as you remember something you realised back at the bonfire in the shrine: you don't even know if they're still alive! With you dead, they would have stood no chance against the Witch. Did your failure cost them their lives, too? Their only hope would have been if another Magical Girl came to their rescue, but what are the chances of th-
Akemi Homura.
She was there before you entered the barrier, you remember now with crystal clarity. It wasn't a friendly meeting and you recall restraining her with your ribbons, but you're certain that those would have vanished when you died. Meaning there is a chance she came to Madoka and Sayaka's rescue. At least, you dearly, sincerely hope that's the case.
The alternative is simply to horrifying for you to consider.
You let out a sigh of relief. It's not a certainty, but it's hope nonetheless. Hope that your failure at least only cost you and nobody else. It's enough to prevent you from suffering another breakdown and run out onto the street dressed as you are to look for them. You're not sure what would've been worse if you had done just that: the mortification, the chance at catching a cold or worse, or getting arrested for indecent exposure.
You shake your head; you're getting distracted.
First things first. A glance at the clock reveals that it is already seven minutes past ten in the morning, meaning it's high time for you to get some small breakfast and then treat your body to some further proper care with a shower and getting dressed for the day. After that, well… You'll decide once you're done with your current set of tasks.
Your first order of business is to make yourself some breakfast, but when you open the fridge you are hit with a firm reminder - as if you needed one - that you've been gone for seven days. You wrinkle your nose at the smell and sigh as you feel another headache coming up. While by no means everything you'd stored in there has gone bad, you nevertheless have to add 'grocery shopping' to the list of things you'll need to do today.
Fortunately, you always keep some dry food in stock in case of situations like these. Breakfast cereals aren't usually to your taste, but they're perfectly serviceable in an emergency and you're not feeling picky right now.
Fifteen minutes and one bowl of dry nutrition later you're off to the bathroom to make yourself look presentable again. You staunchly avoid looking so much as in the direction of the mirror as you pick up your Firekeeper garments from where you discarded on the floor them last night. You fold them as neatly as you can and put them on the bathroom stool for now, then finally undress and step into the shower.
Half a minute later, you're standing under a stream of wonderfully warm water, eyes closed in delight. For the first time since you died, you are finally able to fully relax, your mind completely blank as you listen to the monotone but soothing noise of the shower and its streams hitting your skin. You can practically feel the tension in your body flow away alongside the water. It is heavenly and just what you needed.
You're not ashamed to admit that you spend much more time than strictly necessary inside the shower, so when you finally do step out, the entire bathroom is nicely warm and steamy. You feel refreshed and much better about yourself, though you still need to wrap a towel around your neck to be able to look at yourself in the mirror when you dry and brush your hair.
Baby steps.
Once you've taken care of everything you need to in the bathroom, you take your Firekeeper garments and head to your bedroom to seek out some clothes to wear. The robes you received in the shrine are comfortable and you are grateful for them, but they're not fit to go outside in, sadly, as they'd just make you stand out too much. The last thing you want right now is to draw attention.
Speaking of standing out, it'd probably be for the best if you covered up your scars, especially the one on your neck. It is really noticeable even from afar and you're not at all comfortable with the idea of people seeing it and even less with them asking where you'd gotten it. Similarly, even though you don't feel as negative towards them as the scar on your neck, it'd be wise to cover up the burns on your hands just to avoid questions being asked about them.
These restrictions do mean a considerable portion of your wardrobe is unusable, a fact that quickly becomes apparent as you rummage through your drawers. You never even noticed before today that so many of your clothes lack a nice high collar.
Eventually, you settle for a nice wooly, cream-coloured turtleneck sweater that perfectly suits your neck-covering needs. You won't even look strange or unusual wearing it, since it can still be quite cold this time of year. As for your hands, you're pleased to find out that the fingerless leather gloves of your Firekeeper garments look quite inconspicuous when they are mostly hidden beneath the sleeves of your sweater. It also lets you wear a piece of the outfit the Firekeeper gave you even when in public, which is nice.
With all physical evidence of your death and resurrection thusly hidden, you quickly choose a matching warm skirt and thigh stockings to go with your sweater. After checking yourself out in the body mirror one last time to make sure that it all goes well together, you're finally ready for the day. You didn't even wince or feel too uncomfortable while looking at your reflection, meaning the sweater is doing its job nicely.
The you exiting your bedroom resembles your usual self a lot more than the one entering it, looking all ready to take on the day. You take a deep breath, free of tension, and even manage to get a little smile on your face. For the first time since you died and returned, you feel… If not happy, than at least more comfortable with yourself.
With breakfast, refreshing yourself and getting dressed now all taken care of, you check the next item on your mental to-do list: going shopping for groceries so you can cook up a more satisfying meal for yourself than dry breakfast cereals.
You almost decide to head out right there and then, but stop when you realise that it would probably better if you cleaned out the fridge first so that you actually have space to put your groceries when you come back from the store. As you look around your apartment, you decide that the fridge isn't the only thing in need of some cleaning. You're a tidy person who always keeps her home presentable, but even so you can clear signs of your weeklong absence while looking around. Nothing terrible, of course, mostly a thin layer of dust on everything, but it's still noticeable.
That just won't do.
The groceries can wait until you've made your apartment liveable again. You roll up your sleeves and march with determination to the cabinet where you store all your cleaning equipment.
Time for an early spring clean!
---
You've always enjoyed cleaning. Odd, perhaps, but it's true. You like the simple but content feeling of satisfaction you get every time you finish and behold your work, for one thing, but mostly, you liked it because those times spent losing yourself in simple household chores were some of the few precious moments where you could pretend your life was normal, without any of that Magical Girl business looming over you and weighing down on your shoulders.
Those moments never lasted, of course, but they were nice while they did.
You're not a magical girl anymore now, of course, but you have a whole new set of issues to deal with that keep your life from coming anywhere near normalcy instead, so the distraction is still appreciated. Plus, the satisfaction of a task well done is still the same as before and a reward in and of itself, so that hasn't changed either.
Which is why, when you finally put down your cleaning tools and wipe off your forehead with the back of your hand while marvelling at your work, you're surprised to learn that it's already well past two in the afternoon and three hours have gone by without your notice. You were so caught up in your work that you didn't even take a break for lunch.
Still, sheepish as you might feel for losing track of time, you can't say you regret it, nor can you argue with the results. The fridge is clean and ready to be stocked again, not a single speck of dust remains in sight and you even took the time to mop the floor and make it shine! That's time more than well spent in your book. Plus it was nice to not have to think about, well, everything regarding your situation for a while and just focus on some straightforward manual labour.
No, even if you went overboard a bit, given that the initial plan was just to clean the fridge and dust everything off, you can't say you regret even a single minute of it. You feel better, even pleased with yourself, which is a welcome feeling indeed.
Of course, you're not done just yet; you still need to make a trip to the shopping district for your groceries.
You don't head out right away, however, taking the time first to freshen yourself up, since you did work up a bit of a sweat while cleaning, and have a quick bite to eat. Only once your stomach's been sated and you deem yourself looking presentable enough again, do you make ready to leave. You grab your house keys and your purse, put on your shoes and winter coat, lock up the front door and then head for the outside.
When you reach the front door of the apartment complex you live in, you're suddenly overwhelmed with cold feet, hesitating just as your hand touches the door knob. On your way through the hallways and down the stairs, you didn't encounter a single person, for which you're grateful, but once you step outside the chances of you being that lucky are exactly zero.
It's not fear of people in general that's holding you back, but more so the fear of being recognised by someone you know. You've been dead for a week, with only three people privy to the truth, only to return just as suddenly and unexpectedly. If you come across anyone you know, that means they'll inevitably ask questions. Questions you have no answers for. They'll want to know where you've been, but what can you tell them? That you've been dead for a week and only came back to life last night?
You snort at the thought; yes, that'd go over swimmingly.
You could say you were sick, of course, but so sick you were incapable of letting anyone know or answering any calls or messages? You'd have to come up with a believable disease that could leave you bedridden that badly, too, but your medical knowledge isn't really up to that task. Nobody would ever buy it, but you have no idea what to tell anyone otherwise. There's really no good or sensible explanation you can come up with to excuse a week of total silence and absence.
Your hand tightens around the door knob.
A sigh escapes your lips and you bow your head. God, what a mess. You are a mess. Everything is a mess. You were feeling better for a moment, not having to think about it all, but you were just putting things off temporarily. You don't know what to do, don't know how to handle this. When the Firekeeper made you her offer and you accepted, you didn't think things would be like this.
Not that you really had any idea or expectations for what coming back to life would be like, but even so you still didn't expect it would leave you like… like this.
You shake your head. You're being silly, lingering around in front of the door with your hand on the knob like this. You just need to step outside and head for the shopping district. If you do meet anyone asking questions, then you'll just… just… think of something to say when that happens.
You nearly tear the front door off its hinges and hurry outside. By the time the door falls back in its lock with an audible crash, you're already halfway down the street, your mind a maelstrom of confused and conflicting thoughts and emotions.
Those moments never lasted, of course, but they were nice while they did.
You're not a magical girl anymore now, of course, but you have a whole new set of issues to deal with that keep your life from coming anywhere near normalcy instead, so the distraction is still appreciated. Plus, the satisfaction of a task well done is still the same as before and a reward in and of itself, so that hasn't changed either.
Which is why, when you finally put down your cleaning tools and wipe off your forehead with the back of your hand while marvelling at your work, you're surprised to learn that it's already well past two in the afternoon and three hours have gone by without your notice. You were so caught up in your work that you didn't even take a break for lunch.
Still, sheepish as you might feel for losing track of time, you can't say you regret it, nor can you argue with the results. The fridge is clean and ready to be stocked again, not a single speck of dust remains in sight and you even took the time to mop the floor and make it shine! That's time more than well spent in your book. Plus it was nice to not have to think about, well, everything regarding your situation for a while and just focus on some straightforward manual labour.
No, even if you went overboard a bit, given that the initial plan was just to clean the fridge and dust everything off, you can't say you regret even a single minute of it. You feel better, even pleased with yourself, which is a welcome feeling indeed.
Of course, you're not done just yet; you still need to make a trip to the shopping district for your groceries.
You don't head out right away, however, taking the time first to freshen yourself up, since you did work up a bit of a sweat while cleaning, and have a quick bite to eat. Only once your stomach's been sated and you deem yourself looking presentable enough again, do you make ready to leave. You grab your house keys and your purse, put on your shoes and winter coat, lock up the front door and then head for the outside.
When you reach the front door of the apartment complex you live in, you're suddenly overwhelmed with cold feet, hesitating just as your hand touches the door knob. On your way through the hallways and down the stairs, you didn't encounter a single person, for which you're grateful, but once you step outside the chances of you being that lucky are exactly zero.
It's not fear of people in general that's holding you back, but more so the fear of being recognised by someone you know. You've been dead for a week, with only three people privy to the truth, only to return just as suddenly and unexpectedly. If you come across anyone you know, that means they'll inevitably ask questions. Questions you have no answers for. They'll want to know where you've been, but what can you tell them? That you've been dead for a week and only came back to life last night?
You snort at the thought; yes, that'd go over swimmingly.
You could say you were sick, of course, but so sick you were incapable of letting anyone know or answering any calls or messages? You'd have to come up with a believable disease that could leave you bedridden that badly, too, but your medical knowledge isn't really up to that task. Nobody would ever buy it, but you have no idea what to tell anyone otherwise. There's really no good or sensible explanation you can come up with to excuse a week of total silence and absence.
Your hand tightens around the door knob.
A sigh escapes your lips and you bow your head. God, what a mess. You are a mess. Everything is a mess. You were feeling better for a moment, not having to think about it all, but you were just putting things off temporarily. You don't know what to do, don't know how to handle this. When the Firekeeper made you her offer and you accepted, you didn't think things would be like this.
Not that you really had any idea or expectations for what coming back to life would be like, but even so you still didn't expect it would leave you like… like this.
You shake your head. You're being silly, lingering around in front of the door with your hand on the knob like this. You just need to step outside and head for the shopping district. If you do meet anyone asking questions, then you'll just… just… think of something to say when that happens.
You nearly tear the front door off its hinges and hurry outside. By the time the door falls back in its lock with an audible crash, you're already halfway down the street, your mind a maelstrom of confused and conflicting thoughts and emotions.
---
The shopping district is far enough from your home that you usually take the bus there, but you decide to walk there this time, figuring it might help you to clear your thoughts, even if it does increase the risk of bumping into someone. At least most people you know are still at school around this time of day.
The weather also lends itself towards stretching your legs; the sun is shining and while it is still cold for the time of the year, it's more the refreshing kind of cold than the chilling one that leaves you freezing all the way down to your bones. It feels good and you quickly find yourself grateful for your decision to take the long way.
There are plenty of other people out on the street besides you, admittedly, but nobody pays attention to you and you don't run into any familiar faces. You're just one of the many, an unremarkable figure in the masses.
You like it better that way.
When you finally reach the shopping district, you've calmed down a little bit, your head no longer feeling quite so crowded and your thoughts more clear. Even so, you're not in the mood for window shopping and opt instead to just go straight for what you need. That this also means there'll be less chances for the shopkeepers to strike up a friendly conversation and ask why they haven't seen you in a while is just an added bonus.
So it is that less than twenty minutes later, you find yourself back at the entrance of the district, shopping bags in hand, filled with all the essentials any self-respecting fridge needs. You took more time getting here than actually shopping, but you don't really mind, you needed the time to clear your head. You did keep an eye out to see if you could spot Kyubey whilst you were shopping, but you saw hide nor hair of your friend.
You glance at the large digital clock mounted on one of the walls near the entrance. Seeing the time, you're hit by an idea that leaves you feeling conflicted. If you wanted to, you could drop off your purchases at home and still make it to Mitakihara Middle School in time for the end of classes.
You know you're not ready yet to face your classmates, let alone Madoka, Sayaka and Akemi Homura, not by a long shot. Meeting them now would only lead to disaster, of that you're certain. You're simply not prepared.
However, just seeing them, if only from afar, to confirm with your own eyes that they're alive and unharmed, would take such a weight of your mind. That your failure might have cost them their lives as well is one of the biggest fears that's been haunting you since the moment you woke up in the mists outside the ruined shrine, after all.
You dawdle indecisively in place while biting your lower lip, uncertain of what to do next.
The weather also lends itself towards stretching your legs; the sun is shining and while it is still cold for the time of the year, it's more the refreshing kind of cold than the chilling one that leaves you freezing all the way down to your bones. It feels good and you quickly find yourself grateful for your decision to take the long way.
There are plenty of other people out on the street besides you, admittedly, but nobody pays attention to you and you don't run into any familiar faces. You're just one of the many, an unremarkable figure in the masses.
You like it better that way.
When you finally reach the shopping district, you've calmed down a little bit, your head no longer feeling quite so crowded and your thoughts more clear. Even so, you're not in the mood for window shopping and opt instead to just go straight for what you need. That this also means there'll be less chances for the shopkeepers to strike up a friendly conversation and ask why they haven't seen you in a while is just an added bonus.
So it is that less than twenty minutes later, you find yourself back at the entrance of the district, shopping bags in hand, filled with all the essentials any self-respecting fridge needs. You took more time getting here than actually shopping, but you don't really mind, you needed the time to clear your head. You did keep an eye out to see if you could spot Kyubey whilst you were shopping, but you saw hide nor hair of your friend.
You glance at the large digital clock mounted on one of the walls near the entrance. Seeing the time, you're hit by an idea that leaves you feeling conflicted. If you wanted to, you could drop off your purchases at home and still make it to Mitakihara Middle School in time for the end of classes.
You know you're not ready yet to face your classmates, let alone Madoka, Sayaka and Akemi Homura, not by a long shot. Meeting them now would only lead to disaster, of that you're certain. You're simply not prepared.
However, just seeing them, if only from afar, to confirm with your own eyes that they're alive and unharmed, would take such a weight of your mind. That your failure might have cost them their lives as well is one of the biggest fears that's been haunting you since the moment you woke up in the mists outside the ruined shrine, after all.
You dawdle indecisively in place while biting your lower lip, uncertain of what to do next.
---
AN: Hope I handled the winning write-in vote well with this chapter… Also, I apologise if Mami's thoughts seem a bit erratic and all over the place, but, well, that's kind of the point. She's not in a good mental space right now, as should be expected, given everything that's happened to her. I just hope I'm getting that across right without it feeling untrue to her character. I admit I base myself a lot on her portrayal in PMAS, which might be admittedly skewed and biased. Let me know in the comments, alright?
Vote 4 - Go west, young Mami!
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Because You Died: Results ~
---
~ Because You Died: Results ~
---
As I said at the start of the new chapter, the votes this time were once again mostly in line of each other. You all agreed on the clothing to hide Mami's scars and most of you were in favour of cleaning the apartment, going shopping for groceries and keeping an eye out for Kyubey.
Final Vote tally:
[X] first find gloves and a shirt/choker that covers up our scars
[X] then clean up the apartment
[X] next go on a shopping trip to restock the fridge
[X] while shopping keep an eye out for kyubey
No. of votes: 8
Khona Moshr, Thotful Salad, Kkutlord, RookDeSuit, obssesednuker, WMG, Drebom, Jrin
[X] Better restock that fridge, most of the food will have gone rotten by now. A shopping trip for some groceries might calm your mind.
[X] While you're at it, you need to find the other spark.
No. of votes: 1
Billthesomething
[X] first find gloves and a shirt/choker that covers up our scars
[X] Seek out Madoka, Sayaka and Homura.
-[X] Break down and cry. Apologize profusely to everyone, especially Homura, once we find out Homura saved them.
No. of votes: 4
tapkomet, tygerbright, Firebird Zoom, abyssmal_kismet
[X] first find gloves and a shirt/choker that covers up our scars
[X] then clean up the apartment
[X] next go on a shopping trip to restock the fridge
[X] Start looking for a different place to live, this apartment is full of bad memories and uncomfortable questions.
No. of votes: 1
Spector29
[X] first find gloves and a shirt/choker that covers up our scars
[X] then clean up the apartment
[X] next go on a shopping trip to restock the fridge
[X] while at it, get some more clothes/accessories to cover our scars
No. of votes: 1
kichithewolf
[X] first find gloves and a shirt/choker that covers up our scars
[X] then clean up the apartment
[X] next go on a shopping trip to restock the fridge
[X] while shopping keep an eye out for kyubey
[X] If you see Kyubey, ask him to connect you with Madoka and Sayaka
No. of votes: 1
Lord Chungus
That about wraps things up for this vote. I hope you all feel that I did right by your vote in the chapter, it was the first time I held a write-in vote, after all, so if you feel I made some mistakes or mishandled some things, I always appreciate pointers on how to do better.
Now, as for the next decision you have to make…
---
~ Go west, young Mami! ~
---
~ Go west, young Mami! ~
---
This should be a pretty straightforward decision for y'all to make. As you may have guessed from the end of the chapter, the question is whether or not Mami should head on over to Mitakihara Middle School when classes end to see if she can spot Madoka and Sayaka and find out if they're alive.
It goes without saying that seeing Madoka and Sayaka being alive will come as a huge relief for our dear Mami. However, please remember that even if you do vote for Mami to go, she's not planning to actually meet with them yet, she simply doesn't feel ready for that confrontation just yet.
Going also means there's a chance she'll get spotted, though Mami will do her best to stay out of sight and be inconspicuous. She just wants to keep an eye on the school entrance.
So, voting time! What will Mami do?
[ ] Head for the school after dropping of your shopping bags. You need to know they're alive!
[ ] Head for home. You still feel like a mess and going to school risks getting you spotted.
[ ] Write in.
Rekindling - 5
Laurelin
Ain't got nothing better.
- Location
- Where the Wild Wolves Have Gone
---
~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
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~ Mami Souls: Prepare to Waifu ~
---
I'd like to apologise again for the somewhat laboured voting round this time around, I should probably have given some more information or explained things a bit better. So, again, I'm sorry and I thank everyone for their understanding. Hopefully, after this chapter, you'll understand why I strongly suggested a course correction the way I did.
Regardless, after clarification, the majority voted to go to school and to take some measures to disguise ourselves a bit. Let us continue!
Regardless, after clarification, the majority voted to go to school and to take some measures to disguise ourselves a bit. Let us continue!
---
Rekindling - 5The shopping bag feels heavy in your hand as you trudge towards your home, but it is nothing compared to the metaphorical weight that's pressing down on your shoulders. A part of you knows that you have no time to be loitering, not if you want to make it to your school on time. The bigger part of you, however, seems set on trying whatever it can to ensure that you will fail in that endeavour. A deep sigh escapes your lips.
Your feet feel like they're made of lead, which isn't that surprising, you suppose, given your conflicted feelings at the moment. Then again, has there ever been even one moment since you reawoke from death itself where you didn't feel conflicted? If there was, you certainly don't remember it.
It seems so hard to believe that less than a week ago - well, technically it's been more than a week since you saved Madoka and Sayaka from a Witch, but for you it felt like less than a week - you had your life pretty much figured out. Not that it was necessarily a good or happy life, admittedly, given how lonely you were, but it was ordered and structured. You knew where you stood and what you had, even if that didn't always make you happy. There was certainty there.
That changed when your two lower classmen entered the picture. The structure of your life was upended by the possibility of gaining comrades, of hope for friends, for an end to your loneliness. Fate certainly wasted no time in stripping you of that and even though you've regained your life now, the structure and stability from before certainly didn't come back with it.
That life is gone, replaced by one in which you feel you no longer know anything, where everything is no longer certain. All that's left to you are worries, such as whether or not Madoka and Sayaka are still alive. That one in particular has been gnawing at you since you sat at the bonfire in the ruined shrine and it hasn't left you alone for even a minute since.
Yet here you are, on your way to find the answer, and you haven't stopped dreading the moment you do since you made the decision. Because as maddening and frightening as the uncertainty of not knowing is, actually having the answer scares you even more.
You need to know if the two girls made it out okay after your demise, but you're terrified of the answer not being the one you want. As long as you don't know, as long as there's uncertainty over the answer, you can find some measure of comfort in the fact that there's still a chance for them to be alright. Once you actually know, however, that hope is gone. They either are or they aren't.
What frightens you is the fact that it could very well be the latter.
Because if it is, then your failure didn't cost you just your own life but that of two innocent girls as well. Two young lives who trusted you to keep them safe, when you didn't.
That's why you're feeling the way you do, why your feet are dragging even though you're on a schedule and don't have much time to waste. You want, no, need to know the truth, but dread it at the same time, because there is a distinct possibility that the truth is that they died as you did. Only, you got a second chance to live your life, whereas they most likely weren't as lucky.
The mere thought of it is unbearable.
You don't know what you'll do with yourself if it turns out to be more than just a thought.
Being alive wouldn't feel right after that, but you don't think you could ever bring yourself to harm yourself. Not with the memory of your painful, gruesome death still so fresh in your memory. Perhaps you could return to the ruined shrine and tend to the Flame directly instead? At least then you'd still be doing some good as a form of penance…
Another sigh escapes your lips and you shake your head. It's not healthy to think like that, you realise, especially when nothing is certain yet. You can figure out what to do after you've gotten your answer.
You continue heading home, doing your best to keep up the pace, but your feet remain heavy the entire way.
Your feet feel like they're made of lead, which isn't that surprising, you suppose, given your conflicted feelings at the moment. Then again, has there ever been even one moment since you reawoke from death itself where you didn't feel conflicted? If there was, you certainly don't remember it.
It seems so hard to believe that less than a week ago - well, technically it's been more than a week since you saved Madoka and Sayaka from a Witch, but for you it felt like less than a week - you had your life pretty much figured out. Not that it was necessarily a good or happy life, admittedly, given how lonely you were, but it was ordered and structured. You knew where you stood and what you had, even if that didn't always make you happy. There was certainty there.
That changed when your two lower classmen entered the picture. The structure of your life was upended by the possibility of gaining comrades, of hope for friends, for an end to your loneliness. Fate certainly wasted no time in stripping you of that and even though you've regained your life now, the structure and stability from before certainly didn't come back with it.
That life is gone, replaced by one in which you feel you no longer know anything, where everything is no longer certain. All that's left to you are worries, such as whether or not Madoka and Sayaka are still alive. That one in particular has been gnawing at you since you sat at the bonfire in the ruined shrine and it hasn't left you alone for even a minute since.
Yet here you are, on your way to find the answer, and you haven't stopped dreading the moment you do since you made the decision. Because as maddening and frightening as the uncertainty of not knowing is, actually having the answer scares you even more.
You need to know if the two girls made it out okay after your demise, but you're terrified of the answer not being the one you want. As long as you don't know, as long as there's uncertainty over the answer, you can find some measure of comfort in the fact that there's still a chance for them to be alright. Once you actually know, however, that hope is gone. They either are or they aren't.
What frightens you is the fact that it could very well be the latter.
Because if it is, then your failure didn't cost you just your own life but that of two innocent girls as well. Two young lives who trusted you to keep them safe, when you didn't.
That's why you're feeling the way you do, why your feet are dragging even though you're on a schedule and don't have much time to waste. You want, no, need to know the truth, but dread it at the same time, because there is a distinct possibility that the truth is that they died as you did. Only, you got a second chance to live your life, whereas they most likely weren't as lucky.
The mere thought of it is unbearable.
You don't know what you'll do with yourself if it turns out to be more than just a thought.
Being alive wouldn't feel right after that, but you don't think you could ever bring yourself to harm yourself. Not with the memory of your painful, gruesome death still so fresh in your memory. Perhaps you could return to the ruined shrine and tend to the Flame directly instead? At least then you'd still be doing some good as a form of penance…
Another sigh escapes your lips and you shake your head. It's not healthy to think like that, you realise, especially when nothing is certain yet. You can figure out what to do after you've gotten your answer.
You continue heading home, doing your best to keep up the pace, but your feet remain heavy the entire way.
---
You arrive back home with enough time to spare to be able to make it to school before classes end for today, as long as you don't dally overlong. After kicking off your shoes - though you don't bother to take off your coat, since you plan on leaving again soon - your first stop is the kitchen to put your purchased groceries away in your waiting, freshly-cleaned and mostly empty fridge.
Once that's been taken care of, you neatly return your shopping bag to its designated storage spot and then make your way to the bathroom for some minor changes to your appearance.
Even if your plan is to only observe the school entrance from a distance, trying to be all sneaky about it would just end up making you look suspicious, so the best thing for you to do would be to hide in plain sight and pretend you're just a normal passerby taking a break on a bench or waiting for a bus or something like that.
The only problem with that approach is that your hairstyle is so distinct that anyone who's even vaguely familiar with you would recognise you immediately with just one glance at your beloved ringlets. Hence why you're currently armed with a brush and engaged in a valiant battle to straighten them out as much as you can.
Despite your valiant efforts, you only achieve marginal success, leaving you with no choice but to stuff the two curly strands of hair into your sweater. You look into the mirror - not without a brief moment of difficulty - and tilt your head left and right to judge the result. You do look a bit less recognisable as you without them in the open, but you could probably make the effect stronger if you wore something over or on your head…
A light turns on in your head and you quickly hurry to your bedroom and more specifically to your dresser containing most of your foldable clothes. Your first thought is to look for a hoody, so you open up the drawer holding your collection of sweaters, but stop when you realise you'd need to take off your coat and current sweater to put it on and would probably get your hair all messed up in the process to boot. Dismissing the hoody idea, you squat down to open the lowest drawer instead when you're hit with another idea.
An impressive ensemble of various headgears is unveiled before you, all of them vying for your attention, but you ignore the majority of them in favour of your small stack of wooly bonnets. One of those will do just fine to cover most of your hair, without making you look weird or out of place for wearing it in the current weather.
You take a minute to pick one out that will go well with the rest of your clothes and eventually settle on a specimen with a soft grey colour. It looks handknitted, though you don't know if it actually was, and even has one of those cute fuzzy pom poms on top. You can't help but smile at the sight of it.
Satisfied with your choice, you shut the drawer and pull the bonnett over your head, then make your way to the body mirror to check if wearing it has the desired effect.
As you study your reflection - you surprise yourself by managing to not flinch this time - you are pleased by what you see. With most of your hair and forehead covered by the bonnett and your rebellious ringlets tucked under your sweater, it's hard to recognise the you in the mirror as you at a first glance, which is exactly what you were hoping to accomplish. You briefly ponder if you should add a scarf around your neck to really hide all of your hair away, but decide against it in the end, feeling that would be overdoing it. The high collars of both your turtleneck sweater and coat are more than sufficient.
Satisfied, you step away from the mirror and return to the living room. Now that you've taken measures to not be recognised on sight and safely stored your purchases in the fridge, there's no reason to linger at your home any longer. A glance at the clock confirms that you can still make it to the school on time before the end of classes.
The anxiety from before, that fear of the truth, which had lessened a bit whilst you were busy, comes back at full force now that there's nothing left to distract you. You still both want and very much not want to go, with your thoughts torn between either side, but deep down you know that you have no excuses left to put this off any longer.
It's time to face the consequences of your failure, be they good or ill.
You fetch your purse from the kitchen counter and then you're heading out once more. During the entirety of your brief stay, you never once noticed the handful of black feathers lying on the freshly-mopped floor of your living room.
Once that's been taken care of, you neatly return your shopping bag to its designated storage spot and then make your way to the bathroom for some minor changes to your appearance.
Even if your plan is to only observe the school entrance from a distance, trying to be all sneaky about it would just end up making you look suspicious, so the best thing for you to do would be to hide in plain sight and pretend you're just a normal passerby taking a break on a bench or waiting for a bus or something like that.
The only problem with that approach is that your hairstyle is so distinct that anyone who's even vaguely familiar with you would recognise you immediately with just one glance at your beloved ringlets. Hence why you're currently armed with a brush and engaged in a valiant battle to straighten them out as much as you can.
Despite your valiant efforts, you only achieve marginal success, leaving you with no choice but to stuff the two curly strands of hair into your sweater. You look into the mirror - not without a brief moment of difficulty - and tilt your head left and right to judge the result. You do look a bit less recognisable as you without them in the open, but you could probably make the effect stronger if you wore something over or on your head…
A light turns on in your head and you quickly hurry to your bedroom and more specifically to your dresser containing most of your foldable clothes. Your first thought is to look for a hoody, so you open up the drawer holding your collection of sweaters, but stop when you realise you'd need to take off your coat and current sweater to put it on and would probably get your hair all messed up in the process to boot. Dismissing the hoody idea, you squat down to open the lowest drawer instead when you're hit with another idea.
An impressive ensemble of various headgears is unveiled before you, all of them vying for your attention, but you ignore the majority of them in favour of your small stack of wooly bonnets. One of those will do just fine to cover most of your hair, without making you look weird or out of place for wearing it in the current weather.
You take a minute to pick one out that will go well with the rest of your clothes and eventually settle on a specimen with a soft grey colour. It looks handknitted, though you don't know if it actually was, and even has one of those cute fuzzy pom poms on top. You can't help but smile at the sight of it.
Satisfied with your choice, you shut the drawer and pull the bonnett over your head, then make your way to the body mirror to check if wearing it has the desired effect.
As you study your reflection - you surprise yourself by managing to not flinch this time - you are pleased by what you see. With most of your hair and forehead covered by the bonnett and your rebellious ringlets tucked under your sweater, it's hard to recognise the you in the mirror as you at a first glance, which is exactly what you were hoping to accomplish. You briefly ponder if you should add a scarf around your neck to really hide all of your hair away, but decide against it in the end, feeling that would be overdoing it. The high collars of both your turtleneck sweater and coat are more than sufficient.
Satisfied, you step away from the mirror and return to the living room. Now that you've taken measures to not be recognised on sight and safely stored your purchases in the fridge, there's no reason to linger at your home any longer. A glance at the clock confirms that you can still make it to the school on time before the end of classes.
The anxiety from before, that fear of the truth, which had lessened a bit whilst you were busy, comes back at full force now that there's nothing left to distract you. You still both want and very much not want to go, with your thoughts torn between either side, but deep down you know that you have no excuses left to put this off any longer.
It's time to face the consequences of your failure, be they good or ill.
You fetch your purse from the kitchen counter and then you're heading out once more. During the entirety of your brief stay, you never once noticed the handful of black feathers lying on the freshly-mopped floor of your living room.
---
It is a weary-looking you that stands observing the school gates from the other side of the street. Your shoulders are slumped like you are carrying the world's heaviest load on your back, while your face carries an expression that cannot hide how badly you want to be anywhere but here right now. You resist the strong urge to turn around and run back home, however, and instead look around for a place from where you can safely observe the school without drawing attention to yourself.
Your eye falls on an unoccupied bench on your side of the street not far away. Situated well within view of the entrance to the school grounds, but not so close as to be immediately noticeable when one passes through the gates, it is exactly what you're looking for.
You make your way towards it and sit down with a sigh, a shiver coursing through your body as the cold of its metal surface makes itself felt straight through the fabric of your stockings and skirt. You slip your purse from your shoulder and put it down next to you on the bench, before your hand digs inside it to retrieve your cell phone.
A glance at its screen reveals that there's still ten minutes left before school ends, as well as a notification for several unread messages. Your thumb trembles as it hovers above the 'open' option for a few seconds, but in the end you change your mind and put your phone away again instead. Reading those messages now would probably only bring you more pain and that is something you currently really could do without.
With another weary sigh, you lean back on the bench and stare at the familiar building on the other side of the street.
Mitakihara Middle School holds many mixed memories for you. It's not as if your schooldays were unpleasant or that you weren't on good terms with your classmates; quite the opposite, really. There were even some girls you were on very friendly terms with and who even invited you along to do things together now and then, but they were never truly your friends. None of them knew about your - now former - status as a Magical Girl, so none of them ever really understood what you were going through on a daily basis.
It's sad, but looking back on it now, class was often where you felt the most alone and isolated. You know that you're not exactly being fair to your classmates when you think like that, since they had no way of knowing the true extent of your isolation and problems. Certainly nobody in your class ever showed you any ill will, which already made you more fortunate than most.
You wonder what they're doing right now, what they think about your unexpected week long absence and how they'd react if you were to just as suddenly and unexpectedly reappear in class tomorrow morning.
Well, your classmates would probably just roll with it once you answered a few of their questions, but you doubt you could get your homeroom teacher off your back so easily. Not without a good excuse backed with some very solid evidence, or a doctor's note giving you leave of absence; neither of which you have.
You'll have to come up with something eventually, though, since you can't exactly sit at home for the rest of your days. You'd run out of money eventually if you can't study to earn a degree and get a job, for one thing.
You rub your tired face with your hands. It might just be you'll end up with no other choice but to not have an excuse for your absence, pretend you just spent a whole week skipping classes and sit out the punishment you'll get dealt for that. Provided you won't get expelled on the spot instead, which you're not sure won't happen. Your student record is absolutely spotless, true, but pretending to have skipped an entire week of classes would definitely not go over well.
You let out an exasperated groan. You never suspected being dead for a week would cause this many problems!
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, you're kept from further worrying on the subject when you're pulled from your thoughts by the ringing of the school bell. Immediately, you sit up straight, your gaze drawn immediately towards the gates. The thoughts you had but a second ago are gone completely, leaving only a simmering feeling of dread and anxiety in their wake.
It's time.
It still takes a few minutes after the bell rang before the first students emerge from the building, but once they do their small numbers quickly swell into a veritable flood of people all swarming towards the gate. You hold your breath as you watch them approach, your entire body more tense than a coiled spring and your hands wringing together nervously. You only relax a little when the first of them pass you by without so much as a glance in your direction.
So far, so good. It really wouldn't have been pleasant had you been recognised right out of the gate, pun not intended.
You try not to make it obvious that you're looking for someone as you scan the heads of the crowd, searching with a growing pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat for a familiar mop of pink or blue hair. You do your best not to panic when you don't see any straight away, reminding yourself that Mitakihara Middle School is a big school with a large number of students. It'll take time for all of them to get outside.
As the minutes go by and the flood of students continues without so much of a hint of your quarry, however, it becomes more and more difficult to ignore the worry and doubt that worm their way into your head. Your heart is beating abnormally fast by now and your face is matted with sweat that has nothing to do with your bonnett being too hot.
You do catch a glimpse of some of your own classmates and pretend to be busy with your phone when they walk past you, so they won't see your face if they happen to glance your way, but there's still no sign of Madoka or Sayaka.
Your throat feels dry, but you try your hardest not to panic. There's plenty of perfectly valid reasons for why you haven't seen them yet, you tell yourself. They could just be running late, or it could be their turn today to clean their classroom. Maybe they have after school club activities today and they won't go home for another hour! That's definitely possible.
Then, just as the wait finally feels like it's becoming unbearable and you're about to burst a blood vessel, you see it. A head with pink hair tied into two pigtails with red ribbons, belonging to a demure girl walking alongside another girl with short-medium blue hair. You swallow hard and wait until they're closer so you can get a better look, to make sure you're not mistaking them for someone else, but you're not.
It's them. It's really them!
You almost drop your phone when you are hit with a wave of relief of such intensity that you can feel yourself going limp almost all the way down to your fingertips. Before now, you had no idea it was even possible to feel the way you do.
They're alive.
They're alive!
You can feel tears welling up in your eyes and you make no attempt to stop them, for if there ever was a time to be crying tears of joy and relief, now would be it. Your chest, which a moment ago felt like it was being crushed, now feels wonderfully light and unconstricted. The millstone of guilt and doubt around your neck is gone, as is the weight that was pressing down on your shoulders, leaving them feeling blissfully unburdened.
The fear, doubt, guilt and uncertainty that've been eating away at you all day are gone and you can finally stop worrying. You still failed, nothing will ever be able to change that, but at the very least you were the only one who had to pay the price for that. Your mistake did not cost you their lives on top of your own. They're safe. Hurt and shaken by seeing you die, no doubt, but safe, which is all that matters.
You didn't get them killed.
By now your cheeks are hurting from how widely you're smiling, a sight that is admittedly a bit strange given your dripping nose and the fact that your eyes are still overflowing with tears, but you honestly couldn't care less about how you look right now. Not when you've got such a valid reason to smile and to cry.
You take a moment to simply sit back and observe the pair as they make their way towards the gate, accompanied by another girl with green hair that you don't recognise. Now that they're close enough to make out their faces, you can see that Madoka is looking noticeably downcast, despite Sayaka and the green haired girl's attempts to engage her in conversation and distract her from her woes.
Your heart aches at the sight and you can feel some of the guilt from before return, since you're quite certain of the cause of Madoka's despondent feelings. Intentional or not, there's no denying that through your untimely demise you've exposed the poor girl to a most harrowing experience that'd leave their mark on any person, let alone on someone as kind and demure as Madoka.
A part of you wants to go over to her right now, to let her know that you're alright, to throw yourself at her knees and apologise profusely for letting her down, for exposing her and Sayaka to such danger and for hurting her by making her watch yourself get so brutally killed, to hug her and break down crying while you tell her how sorry you are and how happy and relieved you are to see them both alive and well.
But you can't.
As much as you want to stand up and do all those things, you can't. It would draw too much attention, raise too many questions, create a whole lot of trouble that you simply don't feel ready to handle yet. You need more time. Time to prepare yourself and think of answers, to just… come to terms with everything that happened yourself.
You've confirmed with your own eyes that Sayaka and Madoka are alive. That in itself is already more than you dared to hold out hope for and feel you deserved. It is enough, for now.
Fishing a paper handkerchief from your purse, you use it to wipe away your tears and blow your nose, then pick up your handbag and prepare to leave. Now that you've done what you came here for, staying around for much longer would just increase the chances of being spotted.
You take one last look at Madoka and Sayaka, who're just now passing through the gate, then freeze when you spot another familiar face amidst the crowd a short distance behind them. The flawless black hair and cold, expressionless face make it impossible to mistake her for anyone else.
Akemi Homura.
She hasn't spotted you yet, but remaining here any longer would just be outright inviting her to. As quickly as you can without looking suspicious, you climb to your feet and start walking down the street in the opposite direction of your junior schoolmates.
You're quite certain you have Akemi Homura to thank for saving the lives of Madoka and Sayaka, something you are genuinely grateful and want to thank her in person for, but aside from that you still have no idea how to feel towards the other magical girl. The few brief encounters you had before your death were very tense affairs and during the last one you'd actually gone as far as restraining her with your ribbons, so it is safe to say you did not part on amicable terms.
Meeting with her right now would most likely end up in an even bigger disaster than meeting with Sayaka and Madoka and as such is something best avoided for the moment. You will have to, eventually; that much is inevitable. Just… not today. Not now.
You've done enough for today; it's time to go home.
Briefly, you stop and look over your shoulder to see if you can catch one last glimpse at Madoka and Sayaka, but the pair has already been swallowed up again by the mass of students flooding the street. No sign of Akemi Homura, either. You're a little disappointed, until you remind yourself that you will see them again, hopefully soon.
As you continue on your way, you marvel how much easier it is to walk with your feet no longer feeling quite so heavy.
Your eye falls on an unoccupied bench on your side of the street not far away. Situated well within view of the entrance to the school grounds, but not so close as to be immediately noticeable when one passes through the gates, it is exactly what you're looking for.
You make your way towards it and sit down with a sigh, a shiver coursing through your body as the cold of its metal surface makes itself felt straight through the fabric of your stockings and skirt. You slip your purse from your shoulder and put it down next to you on the bench, before your hand digs inside it to retrieve your cell phone.
A glance at its screen reveals that there's still ten minutes left before school ends, as well as a notification for several unread messages. Your thumb trembles as it hovers above the 'open' option for a few seconds, but in the end you change your mind and put your phone away again instead. Reading those messages now would probably only bring you more pain and that is something you currently really could do without.
With another weary sigh, you lean back on the bench and stare at the familiar building on the other side of the street.
Mitakihara Middle School holds many mixed memories for you. It's not as if your schooldays were unpleasant or that you weren't on good terms with your classmates; quite the opposite, really. There were even some girls you were on very friendly terms with and who even invited you along to do things together now and then, but they were never truly your friends. None of them knew about your - now former - status as a Magical Girl, so none of them ever really understood what you were going through on a daily basis.
It's sad, but looking back on it now, class was often where you felt the most alone and isolated. You know that you're not exactly being fair to your classmates when you think like that, since they had no way of knowing the true extent of your isolation and problems. Certainly nobody in your class ever showed you any ill will, which already made you more fortunate than most.
You wonder what they're doing right now, what they think about your unexpected week long absence and how they'd react if you were to just as suddenly and unexpectedly reappear in class tomorrow morning.
Well, your classmates would probably just roll with it once you answered a few of their questions, but you doubt you could get your homeroom teacher off your back so easily. Not without a good excuse backed with some very solid evidence, or a doctor's note giving you leave of absence; neither of which you have.
You'll have to come up with something eventually, though, since you can't exactly sit at home for the rest of your days. You'd run out of money eventually if you can't study to earn a degree and get a job, for one thing.
You rub your tired face with your hands. It might just be you'll end up with no other choice but to not have an excuse for your absence, pretend you just spent a whole week skipping classes and sit out the punishment you'll get dealt for that. Provided you won't get expelled on the spot instead, which you're not sure won't happen. Your student record is absolutely spotless, true, but pretending to have skipped an entire week of classes would definitely not go over well.
You let out an exasperated groan. You never suspected being dead for a week would cause this many problems!
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, you're kept from further worrying on the subject when you're pulled from your thoughts by the ringing of the school bell. Immediately, you sit up straight, your gaze drawn immediately towards the gates. The thoughts you had but a second ago are gone completely, leaving only a simmering feeling of dread and anxiety in their wake.
It's time.
It still takes a few minutes after the bell rang before the first students emerge from the building, but once they do their small numbers quickly swell into a veritable flood of people all swarming towards the gate. You hold your breath as you watch them approach, your entire body more tense than a coiled spring and your hands wringing together nervously. You only relax a little when the first of them pass you by without so much as a glance in your direction.
So far, so good. It really wouldn't have been pleasant had you been recognised right out of the gate, pun not intended.
You try not to make it obvious that you're looking for someone as you scan the heads of the crowd, searching with a growing pit in your stomach and a lump in your throat for a familiar mop of pink or blue hair. You do your best not to panic when you don't see any straight away, reminding yourself that Mitakihara Middle School is a big school with a large number of students. It'll take time for all of them to get outside.
As the minutes go by and the flood of students continues without so much of a hint of your quarry, however, it becomes more and more difficult to ignore the worry and doubt that worm their way into your head. Your heart is beating abnormally fast by now and your face is matted with sweat that has nothing to do with your bonnett being too hot.
You do catch a glimpse of some of your own classmates and pretend to be busy with your phone when they walk past you, so they won't see your face if they happen to glance your way, but there's still no sign of Madoka or Sayaka.
Your throat feels dry, but you try your hardest not to panic. There's plenty of perfectly valid reasons for why you haven't seen them yet, you tell yourself. They could just be running late, or it could be their turn today to clean their classroom. Maybe they have after school club activities today and they won't go home for another hour! That's definitely possible.
Then, just as the wait finally feels like it's becoming unbearable and you're about to burst a blood vessel, you see it. A head with pink hair tied into two pigtails with red ribbons, belonging to a demure girl walking alongside another girl with short-medium blue hair. You swallow hard and wait until they're closer so you can get a better look, to make sure you're not mistaking them for someone else, but you're not.
It's them. It's really them!
You almost drop your phone when you are hit with a wave of relief of such intensity that you can feel yourself going limp almost all the way down to your fingertips. Before now, you had no idea it was even possible to feel the way you do.
They're alive.
They're alive!
You can feel tears welling up in your eyes and you make no attempt to stop them, for if there ever was a time to be crying tears of joy and relief, now would be it. Your chest, which a moment ago felt like it was being crushed, now feels wonderfully light and unconstricted. The millstone of guilt and doubt around your neck is gone, as is the weight that was pressing down on your shoulders, leaving them feeling blissfully unburdened.
The fear, doubt, guilt and uncertainty that've been eating away at you all day are gone and you can finally stop worrying. You still failed, nothing will ever be able to change that, but at the very least you were the only one who had to pay the price for that. Your mistake did not cost you their lives on top of your own. They're safe. Hurt and shaken by seeing you die, no doubt, but safe, which is all that matters.
You didn't get them killed.
By now your cheeks are hurting from how widely you're smiling, a sight that is admittedly a bit strange given your dripping nose and the fact that your eyes are still overflowing with tears, but you honestly couldn't care less about how you look right now. Not when you've got such a valid reason to smile and to cry.
You take a moment to simply sit back and observe the pair as they make their way towards the gate, accompanied by another girl with green hair that you don't recognise. Now that they're close enough to make out their faces, you can see that Madoka is looking noticeably downcast, despite Sayaka and the green haired girl's attempts to engage her in conversation and distract her from her woes.
Your heart aches at the sight and you can feel some of the guilt from before return, since you're quite certain of the cause of Madoka's despondent feelings. Intentional or not, there's no denying that through your untimely demise you've exposed the poor girl to a most harrowing experience that'd leave their mark on any person, let alone on someone as kind and demure as Madoka.
A part of you wants to go over to her right now, to let her know that you're alright, to throw yourself at her knees and apologise profusely for letting her down, for exposing her and Sayaka to such danger and for hurting her by making her watch yourself get so brutally killed, to hug her and break down crying while you tell her how sorry you are and how happy and relieved you are to see them both alive and well.
But you can't.
As much as you want to stand up and do all those things, you can't. It would draw too much attention, raise too many questions, create a whole lot of trouble that you simply don't feel ready to handle yet. You need more time. Time to prepare yourself and think of answers, to just… come to terms with everything that happened yourself.
You've confirmed with your own eyes that Sayaka and Madoka are alive. That in itself is already more than you dared to hold out hope for and feel you deserved. It is enough, for now.
Fishing a paper handkerchief from your purse, you use it to wipe away your tears and blow your nose, then pick up your handbag and prepare to leave. Now that you've done what you came here for, staying around for much longer would just increase the chances of being spotted.
You take one last look at Madoka and Sayaka, who're just now passing through the gate, then freeze when you spot another familiar face amidst the crowd a short distance behind them. The flawless black hair and cold, expressionless face make it impossible to mistake her for anyone else.
Akemi Homura.
She hasn't spotted you yet, but remaining here any longer would just be outright inviting her to. As quickly as you can without looking suspicious, you climb to your feet and start walking down the street in the opposite direction of your junior schoolmates.
You're quite certain you have Akemi Homura to thank for saving the lives of Madoka and Sayaka, something you are genuinely grateful and want to thank her in person for, but aside from that you still have no idea how to feel towards the other magical girl. The few brief encounters you had before your death were very tense affairs and during the last one you'd actually gone as far as restraining her with your ribbons, so it is safe to say you did not part on amicable terms.
Meeting with her right now would most likely end up in an even bigger disaster than meeting with Sayaka and Madoka and as such is something best avoided for the moment. You will have to, eventually; that much is inevitable. Just… not today. Not now.
You've done enough for today; it's time to go home.
Briefly, you stop and look over your shoulder to see if you can catch one last glimpse at Madoka and Sayaka, but the pair has already been swallowed up again by the mass of students flooding the street. No sign of Akemi Homura, either. You're a little disappointed, until you remind yourself that you will see them again, hopefully soon.
As you continue on your way, you marvel how much easier it is to walk with your feet no longer feeling quite so heavy.
---
When you arrive back your apartment, you're almost unrecognisable as the same person that left only a short hour ago. While you still have plenty of emotional turmoil and personal insecurities you need to work out, a great weight you've been carrying since your rebirth has been lifted from your heart and it shows. Your back is straight, your head no longer held downcast and you even manage to smile again for more than just a few brief seconds.
To be so unburdened is a wonderful feeling, one you've sorely missed. Simply knowing that your once future students are alright makes all the difference to you. Before, you never could shake off the doubt of whether or not you deserved the second chance the Firekeeper gave you, but now that feelings has been significantly reduced, as if you needed Sayaka and Madoka's permission to let yourself be glad to be alive again.
You think Madoka would disagree with that notion, but you can't help how you feel.
Even the utter quiet of the apartment as you step inside no longer feels quite as oppressive as before, to the point that for once you are not bothered when only silence answers to your call of "I'm home!". You simply take off your coat, bonnet and shoes as normal before you continue further into the house.
As you walk down the hall, your mind turns to what you'll make for supper this evening. You haven't had a decent meal since your return and some of your own homemade cooking seems like the perfect end to this rather eventful day.
Smiling, you open the door to the living room and step inside, only to have all thoughts of recipes and ingredients vanish like a puff of smoke when your eyes behold the sight that awaits you there.
Your purse falls to the ground as your hands drop limply by your side.
The living room, the very same one you spent most of the morning and early afternoon cleaning up and left behind all neat and tidy, looks like a hurricane passed through while you were gone. Drawers and closets are left wide open, the sofa has tipped over onto its back, books have fallen off their shelves and now litter the floor, the tea table is missing its tablecloth and the rug underneath it is showing tears as if something tugged on it and all your pillows seem to have gone missing.
Your first thought as you behold the destruction is a burglary, until you remember that the front door was still locked and none of the windows are broken or look like they have been opened. Confused as to what could have caused this then if not that, you cautiously step further into the room to see if there's anything that might provide you with some kind of clue.
At first, nothing jumps out at you from amidst the seemingly wanton destruction of your home and your hard work from earlier today, until you spot what appears to be a couple of black feathers on the floor. Frowning, you crouch down to pick one of them up, while your mind wonders where they came from. Did a bird get inside your apartment somehow?
Closer inspection of the feather doesn't tell you much, other than that it looks like an ordinary feather belonging to what you think could be a crow or some other corvid, but you're not an ornithologist so it's very possible you're wrong.
As you stand back up and take another good look around, you notice more feathers that seem to form a winding trail ending in the corner of the room. There, you can spot what appears to be your missing pillows and tablecloth, as well as every other thing you had laying around or stored away that could even remotely be considered soft. Whoever the thief was seems to have used them to build what can only be described as an oversized bird's nest.
To make matters even more bizarre, the nest sits currently empty, though you can see some more discarded feathers covering the bottom. You take another, more thorough look around the room, even poke your head into the kitchen, to see if there's any sign of the impromptu nest's builder, but are left empty handed for your efforts.
There doesn't seem to be anyone here but you.
Slowly, you begin to approach the nest made from your stolen cushions and blankets, while mentally wishing you could still use your powers as a magical girl. You'd feel a lot safer if you had one of your muskets in your hands right now. You really should have called the police the moment you saw wha-
"You! You!"
With an undignified scream of a pitch you didn't know you were capable of, you whirl around trying to locate the speaker while at the same time attempting to return your heart to its place within your ribcage. No matter where you look, however, there is nobody you can see.
A soft cawing, like that of a crow, draws your attention back to the nest. The sound seems to have originated from there, but it is still as empty as before.
"Yes, you, you!" the voice speaks again, sounding like that of a girl around roughly the age of ten.
"Give me, warm!" the invisible girl demands, her words followed by more cawing. "Give me, soft!"
To be so unburdened is a wonderful feeling, one you've sorely missed. Simply knowing that your once future students are alright makes all the difference to you. Before, you never could shake off the doubt of whether or not you deserved the second chance the Firekeeper gave you, but now that feelings has been significantly reduced, as if you needed Sayaka and Madoka's permission to let yourself be glad to be alive again.
You think Madoka would disagree with that notion, but you can't help how you feel.
Even the utter quiet of the apartment as you step inside no longer feels quite as oppressive as before, to the point that for once you are not bothered when only silence answers to your call of "I'm home!". You simply take off your coat, bonnet and shoes as normal before you continue further into the house.
As you walk down the hall, your mind turns to what you'll make for supper this evening. You haven't had a decent meal since your return and some of your own homemade cooking seems like the perfect end to this rather eventful day.
Smiling, you open the door to the living room and step inside, only to have all thoughts of recipes and ingredients vanish like a puff of smoke when your eyes behold the sight that awaits you there.
Your purse falls to the ground as your hands drop limply by your side.
The living room, the very same one you spent most of the morning and early afternoon cleaning up and left behind all neat and tidy, looks like a hurricane passed through while you were gone. Drawers and closets are left wide open, the sofa has tipped over onto its back, books have fallen off their shelves and now litter the floor, the tea table is missing its tablecloth and the rug underneath it is showing tears as if something tugged on it and all your pillows seem to have gone missing.
Your first thought as you behold the destruction is a burglary, until you remember that the front door was still locked and none of the windows are broken or look like they have been opened. Confused as to what could have caused this then if not that, you cautiously step further into the room to see if there's anything that might provide you with some kind of clue.
At first, nothing jumps out at you from amidst the seemingly wanton destruction of your home and your hard work from earlier today, until you spot what appears to be a couple of black feathers on the floor. Frowning, you crouch down to pick one of them up, while your mind wonders where they came from. Did a bird get inside your apartment somehow?
Closer inspection of the feather doesn't tell you much, other than that it looks like an ordinary feather belonging to what you think could be a crow or some other corvid, but you're not an ornithologist so it's very possible you're wrong.
As you stand back up and take another good look around, you notice more feathers that seem to form a winding trail ending in the corner of the room. There, you can spot what appears to be your missing pillows and tablecloth, as well as every other thing you had laying around or stored away that could even remotely be considered soft. Whoever the thief was seems to have used them to build what can only be described as an oversized bird's nest.
To make matters even more bizarre, the nest sits currently empty, though you can see some more discarded feathers covering the bottom. You take another, more thorough look around the room, even poke your head into the kitchen, to see if there's any sign of the impromptu nest's builder, but are left empty handed for your efforts.
There doesn't seem to be anyone here but you.
Slowly, you begin to approach the nest made from your stolen cushions and blankets, while mentally wishing you could still use your powers as a magical girl. You'd feel a lot safer if you had one of your muskets in your hands right now. You really should have called the police the moment you saw wha-
"You! You!"
With an undignified scream of a pitch you didn't know you were capable of, you whirl around trying to locate the speaker while at the same time attempting to return your heart to its place within your ribcage. No matter where you look, however, there is nobody you can see.
A soft cawing, like that of a crow, draws your attention back to the nest. The sound seems to have originated from there, but it is still as empty as before.
"Yes, you, you!" the voice speaks again, sounding like that of a girl around roughly the age of ten.
"Give me, warm!" the invisible girl demands, her words followed by more cawing. "Give me, soft!"
---
AN: I hope you understand now why I suggested you wait to go look for Snuggly. ^^" When she won the waifu vote, I always intended to have her appear like this, so this scene wasn't changed or hurried through due to the last vote or anything. Since she was one of the easy options, she was set to be easy to find no matter what. She just needed some time to arrive and now here she is!
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