Chapter Text

The early days of the MSY were a nightmare. Granted, far less of one compared to the earlier days where it was every girl for herself, but a nightmare nonetheless, of a different kind. When you're used to your problems being of a more existential nature, it's somewhat difficult to transition into the relatively more mundane affairs of organizational management. We were all flying by the seats of our pants, no matter how much Akemi‐san always projected an air of being in control. Things weren't made any easier by the girls who either didn't know or didn't care about us; sometimes, when you've been on your own for long enough, you get set in your ways, and you don't want to hear about other possibilities. We didn't really think of it this way at the time, but in hindsight, probably the most important issues we faced were the rogue magical girls. The ones that had gone drunk with their newfound power, or gone insane under the stress of their new realities. It took us a distressingly long time to form the Soul Guard… far too long. It's easy to think that we did the best we could, without the systems we have in place today, but in reality we had everything we needed to make the decision much sooner. We were too concerned with operations, too concerned with expansion, to spare enough thought for those poor, lost souls…



— Tomoe Mami, "Building a Better World: Reminiscences on the Growth of the MSY from Someone Who Was There," (MSY Internal), 2373, excerpt.

"Happiness is nonetheless true happiness because it must come to an end, nor do thought and love lose their value because they are not everlasting."



— Bertrand Russell, "What I Believe," 1925, excerpt.

June 17, 2039

Five meters away from where Yamamoto Ikuyo lay prone behind a parked car, the ground exploded.

Knowing what she would see, she glanced over anyway to see the steel kunai sticking out of the ground, telltale dark‐blue cloth identifying its source. As the fragments of dirt and asphalt settled, a loud, mocking voice rang out through the otherwise empty street.

"Ikuyo‐chan, Ikuyo‐chan… where are you, Ikuyo‐chan…?"

Ikuyo shivered. Aoi‐senpai had been so kind, so helpful… a far cry from the crazy, derisive girl who was now hunting her like a cat hunting a mouse. Ikuyo clutched tightly to her morningstar; while it usually gave her comfort, here it simply reminded her how useless she was against enemies that could keep their distance. Especially when those enemies knew where she was hiding.

You need to think outside the box, Aoi had once told her. You're really great once you can get up close and personal, but demons can fight at range. Focus on closing the gap.

Aoi had never told her that Ikuyo might be fighting against her one day.

Ikuyo pushed herself up, gritting her teeth. It had been a difficult time, the past few months, but she had had no clue that her senpai was cracking. They had lost Manami‐san to a demon attack back in March, and Sayuri‐chan in May. Ikuyo had tried to convince Aoi that it wasn't her fault, that there was nothing that they could have done, and she'd thought that she had succeeded. Then, this afternoon she had gone over to Aoi's apartment and had needed to duck as a kunai buried itself in the door.

What are you doing? she had cried, instantly transforming into her light yellow dress. Aoi, of course, was already garbed in her own dark blue outfit, a stylized shozuku that left her head exposed.

You know exactly what I'm doing, Aoi had replied, leaping down from her perch atop the cabinet. You're going to leave me too, you're going to leave me all alone, you're going to make me face those monsters all alone!

Ikuyo would have gaped, if Aoi hadn't hurled another pair of kunai in her direction. With no other choice, Ikuyo had turned and fled, with Aoi in hot pursuit.

Tears burning hot in her eyes, Ikuyo sprang out from behind the car, leaping and tumbling the way Aoi had taught her, dodging the rain of blades that hailed down from her former mentor. Luckily for Ikuyo, Aoi's aim was off, uncharacteristically so; the elegant and efficient dance of the girl she knew was gone, replaced with brutal force. She found shelter behind another car, moments before three more of Aoi's seemingly infinite supply of magical kunai buried themselves into the metal with a quick series of thunks.

"Oh, Ikuyo‐chan, Ikuyo‐chan, stop running from me Ikuyo‐chan… Why are you running from me, why are you leaving me? Why is everybody leaving me?" Each question was like an arrow through Ikuyo's heart. I'm not leaving, I would never leave you! And it's not as if Manami‐san and Sayuri‐chan left by choice… Ikuyo desperately wanted to cry out these heartfelt words to her senpai, but somehow she knew that they wouldn't help. She had no idea what could help her erstwhile friend and mentor. Completely out of options, she desperately reached out.

Please, she cried out mentally, broadcasting her thoughts as widely as she could, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, might come to rescue her. Please, help me, Aoi‐san has gone crazy, anyone, please, save me!

With a raucous twisting and buckling of metal, heavy feet landed on the roof of the car. Trembling, Ikuyo raised her eyes to meet their owner. She instinctively gripped the haft of her mace so hard that her knuckles went white.

A jagged smile gazed down at her. A hand raised, three small blades between its fingers.

"I found you, Ikuyo‐chan. Now we can be together forever."

June 22, 2039

Mami swallowed a retch, suppressing an involuntary urge to vomit at the scene laid before her.

Two days ago, the MSY leadership had received news about troubling events in Kyoto. An emergency meeting of the Leadership Committee had been convened, and Mami, the MSY's tactical coordinator, had been directed to form a team to investigate. By mid‐day yesterday, Mami had drafted a list of team candidates and presented it for review; by evening, the impromptu squad had been assembled, and they had trained late into the night in order to prepare.

What they had found when they'd arrived was not what they had been given to expect.

Firstly, there was an overabundance of miasma—an unusual occurrence, but not unheard‐of. The team had quickly set about clearing them out, completing the job with crisp efficiency; these were, after all, hand‐picked fighters, each member a veteran demon‐hunter. Once this task was completed, they had proceeded toward Nakamura Aoi's apartment, approaching with the stealth and practiced caution of true professionals.

It turned out that they needn't have bothered.

Every single girl in the team could feel the immense magical energy radiating from the flat; they had exchanged glances, and not a few telepathic queries regarding their pace. Mami had felt their urgency; there was only one thing that could cause this kind of magical signature. Hurrying their tempo, the team had rapidly spread out; most of the team rushed to secure the perimeter, while Mami and Yuma—the team's primary fighter and healer, respectively—ventured inside the domicile.

Despite having experienced far more than could be said for most people their age, very little could have prepared them for the grisly scene that had greeted them in the apartment's bedroom.

Yuma… Mami thought in a horrified voice. What do we do?

Yuma could give no immediate answer. Her own unique life experiences had provided her with a somewhat stronger stomach than the sometimes overly‐emotional Mami, but even she was somewhat shaken.

I think… she began, slowly. I think that at the very least, there is no immediate threat to ourselves or the rest of the team. As ever, she managed to suppress the visceral, reactive part of her self, instead focusing on the exigencies of the situation.

What about… Mami gestured helplessly at the bed. Of course, she was well aware of the fact that the physical bodies of magical girls were not their true selves; it didn't make it any easier to see the daggers wrapped in blue cloth skewering the limbs of one of the girls on the bare mattress, pinning her in place.

In the past, Mami would have leapt forward and attempted to deliver first aid. She had by now trained herself to suppress this instinct, simply because it wasn't immediately helpful—the girl was clearly catatonic, having dissociated her true self from her body in order to numb the pain. Not to mention that there was no telling what the other girl on the bed might do if she got too close.

So far, the girl in question had not reacted to either of the intruders' presences, electing instead to remain curled tightly into the body of her victim. She clung onto the other girl with a demonic possessiveness, muttering to herself incoherently, seemingly senseless to the world around her. Experience, however, told both of the veterans that it would be a mistake to attempt to extricate the target of the girl's attention.

This is beyond the pale, Yuma thought silently. We were hoping to use Protective Confinement. I think that more drastic action may be necessary.

Mami cringed, internally. She knew what Yuma was suggesting, loathe though she was to acknowledge it herself. Outwardly, though, she gave no reaction, remaining carefully still.

Yuma was familiar with Mami's reservations. It's okay, Mami‐nee‐san, she thought. Though she used the endearing honorific, her mental voice was deadly serious, exhibiting none of the usual undercurrent of teasing playfulness. We came as soon as we could. There was nothing we could have done.

Mami turned to face her friend, wearing a stricken expression torn between wanting to explode in righteous fury and drown in infinite sorrow.

Did we? she thought angrily. Did we really? There was a full day between when we heard about this, and when we came. Not to mention how the information didn't even reach our ears until an entire weekend had passed! Why? Is the MSY's duty to protect magical girls suspended on the weekends? Do morals only apply on business days?

Though the air remained silent between them—save for the inane mutterances of the girl in blue—her questions hung in the air with a heavy weight.

Yuma looked into Mami's eyes—there, she saw a wild desperation, tempered only by the sure knowledge that Mami knew, deep in her bones, that there really was nothing more that they could have done. Not with the clearly woefully‐inadequate system that they currently had.

That didn't make the sight of the two bodies lying on the bed next to them any easier to bear.

Yuma chose her next words carefully.

Mami‐san, she thought slowly, deliberately changing the honorific. I understand what you are feeling. I promise that when we get back to Mitakihara, I will personally speak with Homura‐nee‐san about reforming our information network, and our rapid‐response protocol. But right now, right this second, it is very important for you to be calm, so that we can complete this mission. She emphasized the point by reaching into her dress and pulling out a few grief cubes.

Mami stared dully at the proffered cubes for a few moments, her eyes glassy and unfocused, before mechanically reaching out and accepting them. More from muscle memory than any conscious action, she lifted the cubes toward her hat; the resultant proximity to the hairpin housing her soul gem caused the grief cubes to begin drawing corruption from the jewel. Immediately, Mami felt better, as if a salve had been applied to her heart; a deep‐seated agony still lurked quietly beneath the surface, though, like a grenade threatening to explode.

She looked at Yuma, who was in turn looking back with an expression of concern, and managed a weak smile.

Thank you, she thought, attempting to project an air of having her emotions under control. She glanced at the girls on the bed one final time, before turning away. Since there doesn't seem to be any further need for a full fighting squad, I think I will head back to Mitakihara and begin writing a mission report. I will leave the… jurisdiction here to you. With that, she strode out of the bedroom; in seconds, her footsteps exited the apartment, and Yuma was left alone.

Exhaling a sigh, Yuma turned, silently regarding the gibbering girl and her unfortunate victim. Mami had always been the most emotionally vulnerable of their foursome, and Yuma had privately wondered whether Mami was fit for this mission, given the subject and the stakes. She had held her tongue, back during the team planning, when Mami had placed herself as the team leader; Mami was a formidable fighter, after all, perhaps the best the MSY had. However, Yuma knew from experience that her temperament when it came to rogue magical girls could be… unpredictable.

Ripping her eyes away, Yuma glanced around the room. She spotted a small stack of grief cubes on the nightstand; seven of them were completely saturated, and the eighth—and final—one was very nearly full. The soul gems standing beside them were stained with a deep blackness; the yellow gem, though weak, was glowing as brightly as it could to fight off the oppressive corruption, while the blue one was dim and dull, as if it had already given up. She walked over; as she passed the pair on the bed, she caught a few of the words falling out of the mumbling girl's mouth.

"—forever. Together, you and me, forever. You'll never leave me, and I'll never leave you, we'll be together forever…"

Yuma shook her head. She wanted to feel anger, or even discomposure, at the figure in blue, but all she found within her was sadness, and pity. Sadness at knowing the level of desperate despair that must have driven the girl to do what she had, and pity for the innocent target of her obsession.

Taking her own advice, she reached into her pocket once more and availed herself of a grief cube, clearing her mind, before summoning her hammer. She made it smaller than usual, almost toy‐like; there was no need for the enormous mace she usually used in combat.

Most magical girls would have balked at the task. Yuma, however, had some experience in these types of affairs, and it took only a little effort for her to steel herself for the work. The work was what mattered, after all.

She raised her hammer, reverently, with a profound solemnity.

June 23, 2039

Akemi Homura's face remained impressively impassive as her eyes scanned the page.

Mami had returned unexpectedly early, and, even more unexpectedly, alone. She had had a strange look in her eyes, as if she had seen something she wished she hadn't. Homura had decided not to pry, electing instead to wait until Mami submitted the report that now sat in her hands.

Letting out a breath, she lowered the paper onto her desk and shifted her attention to Mami herself, who was sitting across from her with an unreadable expression. Next to Mami sat Yuma, who had arrived back at the D&E offices hours later, with the rest of the team. Though Yuma could be decidedly more stoic than Mami, even she had seemed out‐of‐sorts. Homura had raised an eyebrow at this, but, as with Mami, had chosen to hold her questions until the debriefing.

Her questions were indeed answered, but the contents of the report spawned more. Her first question, though, was the most important.

"Are you okay?"

Mami stiffened momentarily as Homura's voice broke the silence, before relaxing. Slightly.

"Yes. I think so, anyway," she said. Her voice was uncharacteristically shaky, though it was clear that she was making an effort at maintaining her demeanor. "I've seen all sorts of horrible things, of course, we all have… but nothing like this."

"It was highly unsettling," added Yuma. "Magical girls have conflicts all the time. We know that better than anyone. But this seemed different, somehow. Not so much a conflict, as a neurotic obsession. One that manifested rather… violently."

Homura made a thoughtful noise, steepling her fingers. "Do you have any ideas on how or why this may have occurred? Any hints as to what may have prompted this obsession?"

Yuma shook her head. "Nothing concrete. I did hear Nakamura mumbling about being with Yamamoto‐san 'forever', for what it's worth."

"Hmm… I suppose we will simply have to ask Yamamoto‐san herself, when she is cogent. I take it that she is under Protective Confinement?"

Mami nodded. "Yes. We've treated her physical injuries, but it will take some time for her psychological wounds to heal. We have Tanaka‐san working with her."

"Good." Homura leaned back, her face becoming thoughtful. "I wonder if Kuroi‐san would be willing to try to see what occurred… I will ask her about it later."

"Which project is she on right now?" Mami asked, glad for the temporary change in topic.

"At the moment, she is doing preliminary investigations into the local government," Homura replied. "There are many policies that would be beneficial to the MSY, and to magical girls in general, and we're trying to establish a lobby, of sorts. From her reports, this is seeming to be more difficult than anticipated."

"Speaking of influencing policy," Yuma interjected, "I think that we need to give some serious thought toward some of our own systems. This sort of thing doesn't happen in a vacuum. It must have taken months, maybe even years, for Nakamura to be pushed to this extreme; there is no way that no one noticed anything wrong. We should have heard about this a lot earlier; maybe we could have prevented this from happening."

Homura drew a slow breath, wrinkling her brow as she thought. "Kyoto is at the very outskirts of MSY territory, but it's our territory nonetheless. You're right; surely the other girls in the Kyoshimi locality must have noticed something. We can certainly go and ask them why they didn't report anything to the leadership; until then, we can only speculate."

"It still bothers me that we needed to fracture," mused Mami. "I understand why it was necessary, and really it's a good thing that the MSY has grown large enough to make it necessary, but it leads to problems. Things fall through the cracks. Important things, like this."

"The additional bureaucracy has made things somewhat… slower," acknowledged Homura. "For however much as it's improved the overall stability of the MSY, it's clear that our reaction times are sluggish."

"Not just organizationally," said Mami. "Procedurally, too. It took us an entire day to mobilize after we learned about Nakamura, putting aside how long it took for us to learn about her. That's unacceptable."

"Indeed," agreed Homura. "I'm not entirely sure how to address this right now; we will need to discuss this at the next Leadership Committee. I do think—"

A knock at the door interrupted her line of thought. Executive Akemi‐san, her secretary thought, through the wall. Excuse me for interrupting, but Kuroi‐san is here for you.

Thank you, Akada‐san. Tell her I will be with her shortly. She returned her attention to her friends. "Apologies, but Kuroi‐san has finally arrived. Let's go with this: you two take the rest of the week off. Clear your heads, maybe have a chat with Tanaka‐san to make sure that you're actually fine. After that, think of some ways that we can improve our organizational communication and speed. In the meantime, I will send some girls over to Kyoshimi and ask some questions. Is there anything I've missed? Then I will see you next week. Please send in Kuroi‐san."

May 3, 2042

Kasuga Nanae's ringing laughter pierced through the heavy, viscous atmosphere of the miasma. "This is amazing!" she shouted, nerves tingling and senses alight. "I've never felt so alive!"

"That's great, Kasuga‐chan, but rein it in a little," warned Fukushima Fumi. The elder magical girl nimbly dodged a beam from one of the demons, before landing next to the newly‐contracted girl with a swish of her red yukata. "It seems crazy, right now, trust me I know, but you need to manage your power usage—"

"No way! I feel brimming with power! I'm gonna show these 'demons' or whatever a thing or two!" With that, Nanae leapt out ahead of her senpai, brandishing her twin scimitars. Fumi sighed, before rushing off after her.

May 12, 2042

Nanae gazed down at Fumi's body, startlingly dispassionately for a teenage girl who had just witnessed her senpai die.

I always thought you were slow, she thought. You were always too cautious with using your power.

Even though it was somewhat of a universal tradition for older, more experienced magical girls to mentor and nurture those who came after, Fumi had, from the moment she met Nanae, been on the back foot. In her own experience, it was safest to be risk‐averse: don't go after demons if they were too far away, don't get into unnecessary conflicts outside of the hunt, don't overuse your magic and risk running out. Nanae, on the other hand, was a loose cannon: actively hunting down swarms, bullying magical girls on the fringes of their territory, playing fast and loose with her magic. In fairness, Nanae had what one might consider to be an overabundance of natural talent; where a lesser magical girl might have stumbled at any of these aggressive behaviors, Nanae instead seemed to thrive.

Even if she had been so inclined, Nanae had no time to mourn or grieve for her fallen ally; the miasma around her was still thick, and she was now completely alone against the horde of demons. Around the hilts of her blades, her grip tightened.

Demons, as far as anyone could tell, did not experience emotions. However, if they did, then certainly they would have balked at the expression worn by the girl who raised her eyes toward them. Far from the defiant fear that one might have expected, they shone instead with a wicked gleam.

With a kick, Nanae launched herself at the interlopers, blades slashing at the air in a furious, joyful rapture.

May 29, 2042

"We need to do something about Kasuga."

Ordinarily, the lack of honorific would be notable, but all present at the current meeting shared the speaker's disdain for the out‐of‐control magical girl.

The speaker, one Saito Kuriko, continued. "She's just one girl. There's no reason why she should be as aggressive as she is."

"It's ridiculous, the way that she's able to push us all around," observed Fujiwara Ayaka. "We've been here longer, we're more experienced. She's just freakishly strong."

"I miss Fumi‐san," said the quietly bookish Imai Mio. "She was always so nice…"

"We all do," Kuriko said gently. "If Fumi‐san was still around, I don't doubt that none of this would be happening. But we need to face facts; Fumi‐san is gone, and in her place is… her."

The already dour atmosphere turned even gloomier as the three girls lapsed into morose silence.

For the past two weeks, Nanae had gone on a rampage; every night, she went out hunting, and cleared out miasmas with a brutal effectiveness. At first, the neighboring girls had been appreciative; for however much they liked Fumi as a person, they had to admit that she was somewhat lackluster as a magical girl, and so it was refreshing to have someone picking up her slack. However, Nanae's thirst for violence soon exceeded the capacity of the demons in her area to provide, and she had started to encroach on the territory of the other girls. At first, they had figured that Nanae was just an ignorant newbie, and so they had tried to explain to her that each girl had domain over specific areas of the city. This notion had been quickly disavowed once Nanae turned her swords on them instead, insisting that if they wanted to defend their territory, then they could "try to match her power".

Of course, none of them could, and Nanae gradually laid claim to more and more of the city. As she did so, she began to have less and less regard for trifling matters such as stealth, property, and safety, for either herself or innocent bystanders. Normally, the reality‐warping effects of a miasma would limit or negate the property damage, at least, but Nanae's insatiable hunger for flexing her strength started to bleed outside of demon hunting; incidents where walls or vehicles would be found inexplicably sliced to ribbons were becoming worryingly common.

Surprisingly, it was Mio who broke the silence.

"I think… I think we need to team up. Maybe together we can stand up to her."

Ayaka stared down at her tea. "I don't know… she's really powerful. And she's been fighting every night, a lot more than we have. I don't know if we'd be able to do anything to her, even if we all came at her at the same time."

"And what happens if she beats us?" Kuriko asked. "If she can show that she's stronger than all of us combined, then there'd be nothing stopping her from bulldozing her way through all of Sapporo. Maybe even all of Hokkaido."

"I've been hearing stories about that magical girl organization to the south, the MSU or something," offered Mio. "Maybe we could go to them for help…"

"The MSY, Mio‐chan," corrected Kuriko. "And I'm not sure if that would be the best idea. We've pretty much ignored them until now. It would be somewhat awkward to go ask them for help."

The small coffee table around which they sat jumped slightly as Ayaka's open hand made contact.

"No." Ayaka spoke with a firmness of resolve that belied the rather untenable nature of their situation. "Whatever is going on down there, it doesn't concern us. We need to clean up our own messes. So to speak."

Kuriko clasped her hands together. "Well then, I guess we're in agreement. Tomorrow night, we confront Kasuga. And if she refuses to back down, then we fight." The other two girls nodded.

"Kasuga delenda est," Mio said with a small giggle.

"What?"

"Never mind."

May 30, 2042

"Slow! So slow! So weak!" Nanae's taunts hung in the air, each word a shot through Mio's heart.

They had indeed met up with Nanae; they knew that the trigger‐happy magical girl wouldn't be able to resist a large miasma, and so they had camped outside of the biggest one they could find. Then, once they'd detected the all‐too‐familiar signature of her magic, they'd entered the miasma, ready for a fight.

Regarding the demons, there wasn't much of a fight to be had. Nanae had gotten too skilled at cutting them down with effortless style, to the point where she could fight them off while simultaneously confronting the three girls who were at this point trespassing on her turf. The irony was not lost on any of them.

"Oi," she called out, hacking another demon into strangely‐digital mist. "What are you all doing here? What happened to respecting territory?"

This was Mio's territory, bitch, Ayaka thought angrily. You took it from her. She held her tongue, however, despite the sarcasm dripping off of Nanae's aggressive words. Instead, she got straight to the point, leveling her spear at the dual‐wielding swordswoman. "We've come to take back what's ours, Kasuga. And to teach you a lesson in manners and humility." To her sides, Kuriko and Mio nodded, each preparing their own weapons.

Nanae laughed. "Oh, really? You pansies couldn't take me on alone, so you teamed up to fight me three‐on‐one?" Another slash; another demon dissolving into nothingness. "Fine then, cowards, come at me! Test your mettle against my steel!"

It was a strange fight. Though the three girls were fighting the same enemy, they hadn't had much experience working with one another. Ayaka's skill with her spear was honed on working solo, and she'd never needed to consider things like blocking Kuriko's arrows; Mio's teleportation got them out of some risky situations, but sometimes interrupted what might have been a decisive blow. Nanae, on the other hand, had no such interference, and was free to swing her scimitars in a frenzied dance of blades.

Of course, the demons were looming the entire time, firing beams of negative energy and grasping with insubstantial coldness. Recognizing no distinction between the warring parties, they attacked with an indiscriminate indifference.

With a pant, Ayaka nimbly landed next to Mio as Kuriko covered her with a tautly‐drawn bowstring. Some distance away, Nanae chuckled, twirling her swords as she casually slew yet another of the seemingly endless numbers of demons. Truthfully, the demons were not a serious threat to any of the girls, but they turned out to be a substantial annoyance when a more skilled, more dangerous enemy was afoot.

"This is… more difficult than I expected it to be," Ayaka muttered.

Kuriko kept a draw on Nanae, wary of another potential flurry of blows. "Yeah… I've never needed to worry about firing around other teammates before. Maybe we should have practiced…"

"On what?" Ayaka's voice was bitter. "It's not like any number of demons would give us this much trouble."

"I think we need to just try the best we can," Mio said quietly. "I'll do my best to keep us safe. I can't really help much fighting her directly, though… my hammer wouldn't do much against her swords."

Without looking, Ayaka ruffled the shorter girl's hair. "We know, Mio, it's okay. You're doing great. You definitely saved my ass a few times. Just keep it up; we're going to need every ounce of all of our strength if we're going to win this."

Every ounce of all of our strength… wasn't enough… Mio thought as she ran through the miasma, trying to conserve her magic.

After the battle had reengaged, things had been looking up slightly for the magical trio; Kuriko was slowly getting better at aiming around Ayaka, and Ayaka had managed to land some blows that sent an impact rippling through the sword‐wielder's arms as she parried. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late; they just couldn't keep up with the raw natural talent of Kasuga Nanae. Though it felt an eternity of flashing colors and swirling blades, it was only a few minutes later when Ayaka overcommitted to a swiping slash, and Nanae capitalized by ducking low, getting close, and cutting a slice deep into Ayaka's body.

An ordinary human would have died instantly; a magical girl was made of tougher stuff. Normally. With the paucity of grief cubes that they had suffered in the recent weeks due to Nanae's overhunting, though, Ayaka was unable to muster enough magic to heal herself. She fell to her knees, coughing blood, and Nanae jumped in, hacking away at the now‐defenseless Ayaka.

Even with Mio's teleportation, there was no way for her and Kuriko to get to Ayaka and help. In seconds, Ayaka lay motionless on the ground, a deep‐red pool expanding underneath her from countless gashes; their alliance had dwindled to two.

With their primary offensive power gone, they stood no chance. Kuriko sent volley after volley of arrows at the power‐mad magical girl, but Nanae either deftly dodged them or batted them out of the air with her scimitars. Now in full retreat, Mio had tried to teleport them away, but her own magical reserves were running low; she couldn't even get them outside of the boundaries of the miasma. Forced to run, the pair reached deep inside for the last vestiges of their stamina, drawing upon the superhuman abilities that set them apart.

Even these superhuman abilities had limits, however, and, as the two of them hid inside an alley, Mio doubled over, retching and trying to catch her breath. As if to encourage, or comfort, her, Kuriko placed a hand on her back. The other she held out to the smaller girl.

"Here."

Mio's eyes widened as she looked at the small grey cubes.

"No… no, I can't. We need to share them, Kuriko—"

"We can't," Kuriko said, somehow managing to find the gentle, almost tender tone she always preferred when speaking directly to Mio. "There are two of us, and only two grief cubes. That's not enough for both of us. You… you can get out. You can get away, with your powers. I can't; I would only drag you down. Hold you back."

For not the first time in the day, Mio's eyes watered. "Kuriko… I can't leave without you, I can't leave you behind…" She clamped her eyes shut, as if closing off her vision could close out the awful truth of the reality of the situation. It was in vain; she felt the miasma pressing down, compressing her soul, threatening to crush her with its dark, insidious weight.

Then, lightness. Timidly, she opened her eyes, and gazed in silent shock as Kuriko held the grief cubes up against her soul gem, nestled on her chest. She watched, captivated, as the dark flecks of corruption fled from her soul and were absorbed by the infinite darkness of the cubes, filling her with a newfound energy.

Yet, even as she felt uplifted by the purification, a different despair, a more subtle and painful one, lurked beneath, and no amount of cleansing could heal it. Tears still lining her eyes, she tore her gaze away from the cubes and looked up into Kuriko's face.

The eyes she found were looking at her with a strange expression, a mixture of sad and hopeful; soft, but intense. There was something else, too—deeper, and more passionate. Mio searched her eyes; Kuriko caught her gaze. Then, with a wan smile, Kuriko leaned down and gently placed her lips against Mio's.

The kiss lasted just a moment, but it carried the weight of the entire world.

Kuriko let out a tiny giggle as she pulled away. "I've always wanted to do that," she said wistfully. "I wish I'd done it sooner." She looked down; the cubes had finished their business and sat in her palm, inert. "There's still a little bit of juice in them. Take them. Use them to get away. Go south, to the MSY. Tell them what happened. Maybe they'll take you in."

Mio was still dazed by the kiss, but managed to break out of it to take the cubes from the other girl's hand, closing her fist around them with a new resolve. "I will. I… I'll get them to come here and take care of Kasuga. I will… I'll…" Her babbling was silenced by another kiss from the Kuriko, and in that moment she wanted nothing more than to melt into the taller girl's arms—forgetting Kasuga, forgetting Ayaka, forgetting the miasma, forgetting the entire world except for her.

Kuriko, however, pulled away once again, this time fully breaking contact and leaving Mio with a sudden feeling of loss.

"I know you will. Now go. I love you."

Kuriko's voice broke as she finished, but she managed to stand tall as she rose. She held out her hand with a smile, helping Mio to her feet; then, with a final squeeze, let go for the last time. A moment later, and Kuriko was around the corner, bow drawn, shouting taunts and firing volleys at their predator in an attempt to buy time for Mio to escape. Only the most discerning listener might notice, buried beneath the layers of calculated aggression and cajolery, the pain and sorrow in her voice, threatening to crack every word, shatter every syllable.

As the sounds of battle and of Kuriko's voice faded into the distance, Mio closed her eyes, touching a finger to her lips. I swear to you, she thought. I swear to you, we will have our justice.

And, in a small, tremulous whisper: "I love you too."

A blink, and she was gone.