(prologue)
Chrona was almost asleep when he heard the voice.
At first he thought he was imagining things, so he clutched his pillow tighter to his chest, and ignored it. But it grew louder, and it sounded sad, and lonely. He thought of the smiling shadow outlined against the sand in the neverending desert. How Maka had found him in the middle of all that nothing and saved him.
He thought it might be nice to be to someone what Maka was to him. So he listened.
Chrona, the voice said.
'How do you know my name?'
My sweet Chrona, a mother could never forget her only child's name.
He wanted to pretend to be asleep then, to run far, far away from the voice and who was behind it, but he couldn't move. Instead he pressed himself against the wall, willing this to be a hallucination.
'You're dead,' he thought. 'Dead dead dead dead.'
Yes, the voice agreed, sounding a little sadder. I realized, when I died – oh, I should say, when I was killed, shouldn't I? - that I had been a terrible mother. I treated you cruelly, Chrona, and I regretted it. I suppose that regret is the reason we're speaking now.
She sounded...gentler, somehow. But then, she always had when it suited her. Chrona remained quiet. If he spoke he would be trapped for sure.
Of course you wouldn't believe me, after all I did to you and to your friends. But I want to make amends with you, Chrona. What could a mother want more than for her child to be happy?
A part of him wanted to believe. Maka had looked so happy when she talked about her mother, so proud and admiring, like her mother was a really good kind of friend. That was something he could never have another chance at, no matter how many people he met or how far from his old way of living he moved – he could never create a loving relationship with Medusa that had never existed.
But here she was, a ghost in his room, stretching her hand out to him and offering an apology.
He wanted to take it.
He was afraid.
I love you, Chrona. Please, let me do it properly this time.
He wanted to believe her.
He was afraid.
But he wanted to so, so badly.
The phantom sensation of a hand brushed over his hair, smoothing it down, and he stiffened, his whole body going gooseflesh. Medusa-sama, who was supposed to be dead. A ghost. This was scary. He was really scared. He didn't know what to do in such a situation. But he wanted -
I'm not lying, you know. Let me prove it.
My greatest wish is for you to be happy, and I can help you. That girl you think so much about – Maka, wasn't it? She doesn't love you, and that hurts you. But I can help. I can make her love you, Chrona.
Please, let me.
He wanted to.