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Sayaka stands at the edge of a precipice, her cape fluttering against her knees. Kyouko can only see her profile from this angle, but her expression is unreadable, the dark night clouding Kyouko’s view of her eyes. Compared to the first time they met, this version of Sayaka is near-indistinguishable from the bombastic, righteous girl who lives in Kyouko’s memories.
Kyouko creeps forward, footsteps light so she won’t disturb the silence. Sayaka must hear her anyway, because she turns.
“You’re here again,” Sayaka notes. Her head cocks to the side. Kyouko still can’t make out her eyes, though it isn’t the darkness this time; the moon overlooks the valley that Sayaka was just gazing down at, and it should cast light on her features from this angle. It doesn’t. Kyouko can only see the unnatural curve of her smile. “You always come back here. Why?”
A question like that from blunt, straightforward Sayaka also feels somewhat out of character, but Kyouko doesn’t question it. She just takes another step closer, breathing in so her voice won’t expose her uncertainty.
“Guess I can’t help it.” Kyouko isn’t even sure what she means, really, just that it’s the truth. The cliff edge, Sayaka, even the stagnant wind, all of those feel overwhelmingly familiar to her, though she’s sure she’s never seen them before. Sayaka’s distance from the edge and her distance from Kyouko—incomparable, yet Kyouko spans the latter little by little, her eyes on Sayaka’s face, holding her breath when she doesn’t have to talk. Just a bit closer, now. “Sticks with a girl, y’know what I mean?”
Sayaka’s smile twitches. It’s hard to tell without being able to see her eyes, but it must sadden. She turns back to face the valley. “I might know what you mean. Some things are inevitable.”
“You’re in a hell of a mood.” It’s a fight to keep the mounting desperation out of her voice. Sayaka barely moves, but Kyouko can see the way her feet shuffle, inch by inch, nearer and nearer to that edge. “Why can’t we ever have a normal conversation for once?”
“It’s your fault that we can’t have that, isn’t it? I’m not the one who threw the first punch back then.”
That was different. Kyouko was different—it is largely on Sayaka’s behalf that she is different now. She swallows back the words because somewhere, intrinsically, she knows that begging won’t help. Crying won’t help.
Besides, it’s never been in her nature to beg or plead.
“Can’t I at least offer you some company?” Kyouko tries. “You don’t have to—”
“Don’t I?” Sayaka glances over her shoulder. Kyouko finally gets her first glimpse of the other girl’s eyes; pale and emotionless, as they always seem to be, at this point in the sequence. “You know how this ends, Sakura.”
“Call me Kyouko,” Kyouko croaks.
Sayaka smiles at her. Kyouko gets just close enough to skim her cape as she pitches herself over the edge.
The shrill sound of her alarm blaring pulls Kyouko off the cliff’s edge.
Waking up in the morning was never a particularly pleasant experience, even if it was to attend to her duties as a magical girl. At least then it’d been for something Kyouko knows is important; she can’t say the same of going to school, no matter how much Mami stresses that she should. The temptation to shut off the alarm and roll over is overwhelming, particularly because it isn’t as if there’s anyone here to check her should she decide to laze around…
But she’d made a promise, and Kyouko does her very best not to break those, so she pushes off her blankets and lets out a sigh.
Her nightmare, though reoccurring, always fades from her mind as she goes through the steps of getting ready. It used to bother her pretty bad. By the time she’s ready to exit the house, all she’s left with is the vague memory of being scared and the knowledge that it was Sayaka who was scaring her… and just that isn’t enough to soothe her nerves. Experience something enough times, though, and it’ll often cease to matter at all. Kyouko’s never really believed in dwelling on the stuff she can’t change, and stuff like her nightmares…
Well, she can only assume it’s not that important, if she only knows what’s going on within them. Beyond that, the proof that it was only a dream is always waiting for her at the end of the block, accompanied by two of their closest friends with her head tilted to the side and a little smile on her face.
Just from the way Sayaka’s expression changes as Kyouko gets closer, Kyouko can tell that she must be making a face. She really tries not to do that, but it’s hard, when just the sight of her friend is enough to calm her nerves.
“You had that nightmare again?” Sayaka guesses. Kyouko feels around in her pocket for a tangerine, tossing one to Mami and digging her thumb into another. She really regrets telling Sayaka about it sometimes. It’d been a moment of weakness. “Do you remember anything this time?”
“Morning to you all too,” Kyouko snarks. When Sayaka opens her mouth to speak again, Kyouko slides a tangerine slice inside. “Think I’ll sleep through morning classes today.”
“You really shouldn’t,” Mami chides, as she always does. Their usual song and dance.
“Good morning, Kyouko-chan,” Madoka adds with a giggle. Her expression shifts into something more serious a beat later. “Was Sayaka-chan right? Did you have a…?”
The thing about Madoka is that she’s nice enough to let it be, if Kyouko tells her to. This poses just as much of a problem as it does a benefit, because Kyouko feels guilty whenever she takes advantage of that quality. She pulls out another tangerine for Madoka, then a fourth for Sayaka, who shakes her head, still chewing through the slice that Kyouko had given her.
“I’m guessing you don’t remember anything else about it,” Sayaka pouts, once she’s swallowed.
“What’s the point in trying?” Kyouko slings her bag over her shoulder and starts walking in the direction of their school, leaving her friends to catch up. “My head is probably just telling me I should be stressed out or something. What if there’s a pop quiz today?”
“I hope not,” Madoka winces.
“That’s why you should really keep up with your studies regardless of whether there are any tests or quizzes scheduled,” Mami points out. “Have you considered keeping a dream journal?”
Kyouko grunts.
“We’ve been over that one before,” Sayaka sighs. She sidles up to Kyouko’s side and tugs at Kyouko’s sleeve until she lowers her arm, allows Sayaka to link their elbows together. “You know I’m only asking because I’m worried. If you say it’s okay, then it’s okay.”
Unable to help herself, Kyouko sneaks a glance at Sayaka’s eyes. Blue, same as ever. Big and bright, though creased with concern where her brows have threaded together. Kyouko wipes her thumb off on her skirt and presses it against the little furrow until it relaxes.
Just seeing Sayaka and knowing she’s alright is plenty, Kyouko wouldn’t ask for more than that. There’s no reason to be worried in the first place. Sure, what they do can be dangerous, but they have each other’s backs. Losing Sayaka… There’s no reason to be scared of that.
(Sometimes when Kyouko returns to bed in the evenings, she’ll lie on her mattress and stare up at the ceiling, floating somewhere between awake and asleep. In those moments—and only in those moments—it feels like an inevitability.)
“It’s okay,” Kyouko says, and pushes another tangerine slice at her friend before she can say anything else. “We’re patrolling after school?”
“That was the plan,” Mami confirms with a smile. “Can’t miss a day!”
Madoka tugs at the ribbon in her hair, a faraway look on her face for a moment before she shakes her head. “Yup, back to it,” she agrees, and if she sounds a little off, Kyouko will pretend not to notice it.
There isn’t anything to worry about, after all, in the first place.
No need to create a problem where it doesn’t exist.