The Mitakihara Muse
(Note: This story does not consist of Kyubey or the concept of Magical Girls or Witches. The story overall has no supernatural elements)
Prologue
Madoka Kaname, in the approach of Mitakihara city's slumber with looming shadows and ecstatic red skies, was taking the long route home. Her heart was sinking in the pit of her stomach after the review of her recent work in Art class, something she'd wanted so much to excel in. Her enthusiasm and love for the subject was there, her teacher said, 'But there's no spark'. No wanting to produce something that went beyond her own limits, that she was too scared to make something that went outside her comfort zone. She always restricted her work to clothing, textile design and a few anime characters from television shows. The truth hurt, but it made her wonder. Maybe the teacher was right. She needed to find something totally new. She always yearned to have that potential and natural skill that some other students have, like Hitomi Shizuki; an upper-class student that could draw and paint so realistically. It clearly came so naturally to her. She wanted to be talented like everyone else, but true to her heart in what she created.
The sky was fire now, stretching out towards the sun, descending beyond the ocean waters far into the distance. The city now silhouetting, becoming still, black giants, and before she even realized, she stopped, no longer recognizing these streets. She brought her satchel to her chest, whimpering quietly to herself. Don't panic. Think back to where you were before. As she attempted to recollect her journey, the previous steps, her emerging worry intensified. She was lost.
'B-but, I've never been lost!' her voice cracked.
She didn't want to phone her parents, as they were at work still and wouldn't arrive back till absolute darkness set. She'd confirmed herself absolutely independent up until this point. As the reds smeared violently with the leaking night, she felt tears raise in her eyes slowly and she started to hyperventilate. As she wondered, clueless, she found herself falling deeper and deeper into the void of the city, like a mouse in a maze. Sure, she'd lived in Mitakihara all her life, but she had yet to journey so far through it, especially at night. It'd reached the breaking point for the frightened girl now, as her supposed home had become a breeding ground of danger and nightmares. Horrid ideas already flooded her brain, like ravenous parasites, feasting on her fears ceaselessly. She kept glancing behind her, to check if someone was following.
Madoka came to an abrupt halt. Before her was a path, cutting through trees, that led directly to what seemed to be a church. Seeking sanctuary and so scared for her safety, she dashed through, pushing aside the nagging possibility that someone could very well be hiding in the trees waiting for her. She found the doorway and grunted, pushing the bulky mass of wood. Reluctant, it soon swung open with a stuttering low drone that echoed, when a breeze blasted behind her. She slipped in and closed the door behind her, only to see the church was in total ruin. The beautiful panes of stained glass was effortlessly cracked and broken shards decorated the floor, like lazy mozaic. What was left of the building still seemed so vast. There was a seemingly endless slope like stair way to the altar, upon which stood a plain, golden crucifix that mirrored all around it, with fragments of crimson, orange and pink. Rickety candle holding chandeliers hung dead and dusty, blanketed by thick webs. It was obviously desolate and abandoned. Seeing no hope, she turned for the door. As she grasped the handle, she heard something softly and firmly come in contact with the floorboards, casting a tiny echo. The bubblegum haired girl prayed it was not a footstep. But, as she turned, she saw it certainly had been, her brain harvesting horror.
Directly before her, only two feet away, stood a clear and definite shadow. She trembled, rooted to the ground, like prey of a vicious beast. It took her a second for her eyes to adjust, but she could make out someone was indeed lurking. A girl with an untamed sea of wild crimson hair, the bangs did their job masking her face well, and a set of fiery eyes to match. She was tall, taller than her at least. Being a lousy 5'0ft made Madoka pint sized compared to her classmates. Silence from there was thick. The atmosphere had Madoka by the throat and she couldn't stutter a word. Paralyzed, like being chained firmly to the floor. Their eyes met and all control drained away from the innocent girl's body, as the devil in the dark stared her down. When she saw a smirk from the stranger, seeing a set of small, pointed fangs protruding out, like a predator, her heart felt like it had been taken and squeezed tightly in a vice. At that moment, fight or flight instinct set in and Madoka instantly fled.
Her heart raged in her throat as she ran blindly. The way the other girl looked at her made her feel so insignificant and weak, that she could become nothing in a split second. After what seemed like forever, Madoka awoke from the nightmare and finally had found a familiar main road. She was relieved but took no time to stop and kept running, all the way home. As she arrived, she threw open the door and slammed it behind her. She leaned against the door, panting crazily, slowly inching down the wall into a collected huddle on the floor. She was safe now. The gentle rhythmic ticking of the clock calmed her nerves.
She didn't say a word to her parents as she didn't want to frighten them. She felt bad, but told herself she wasn't exactly lying to them when she said she got home okay. Sitting in the dining room, she was absorbed by what happened earlier, scrapping her food from one side of the plate to the other with her chopsticks.
'Penny for your thoughts, kiddo?' her father, Tomohisa piped softly.
Madoka awoke from her daydream and blinked a few times before looking over to him far across the table 'I-i'm sorry, dad?'.
'You're unusually quiet tonight. Everything okay at school?'.
Madoka gulped a little, looking down. 'Well, my Art teacher says I have the ambition but not the talent' she sighed sadly.
Again, she wasn't lying, but she was hiding something. Her distracted behavior caught on quickly to her parents. Her little brother, Tatsuya, squirmed in his high chair and hopped a little closer to her. 'But sis is so good!'.
'Thanks Tatsuya, but my teacher begs to differ'. She pushed her food away a little.
'Perhaps you need Art lessons?' her father said.
Her mother, Junko, nodded in approval. 'Would that help, dear?'.
For a moment, the image of the red haired girl came back to her and washed over her thoughts completely. Like she was staring directly into her. Straight into her soul. What was wrong with her? She was absolutely terrified but so intrigued and inspired by her all at once. 'No thanks, dad' she rose her head and smiled optimistically. 'I'll be okay, my teacher said what I need to do. I have to just practice and get my head in the right place, that's all'. The parents smiled assuredly and her mother patted her shoulder.
'If there's any problem or you change your mind just tell us. We know how much this means to you and we want you to be happy.' 'Thanks mom' she replied, her complex emotions temporarily subsiding with the happiness that radiated in the room from her loving family.
The lights went out in the house and now in bed, Madoka stared up at the ceiling with worry and wonder. The fearsome eyes of that girl stained into her memory bank. She'd never felt so scared in her life. Her best friend, Sayaka Miki, often criticized Hitomi for being rich and 'sheltered'. Now she thought about it, maybe they were all sheltered. This was a big city after all and the chances of them 'not' stumbling into danger at some point is rather 50/50. She tried to sleep, but the haunting image just wouldn't go away. Mentally juggling the memory of the girl with thoughts of school tomorrow, she eventually sat up, turned on her desk light and proceeded to draw. The shadows and her memory made it vague at some points, but before she knew it, she had done a full sketch of her. Her imagination ignited and through the night, frantic erasing, and scratches of pencil onto paper could be heard.
End of Prologue