I sat hunched over the keyboard, my face hovering precious inches away from the screen. My eyes briefly flicked to the clock, which kindly read half past one in the morning. I had been in this same position for nearly five hours now, and my back was beginning to ache in protest. Well, that`s not true, my back had been aching since 10 o'clock. Really it was my eyes that were starting to hurt me now, those traitorous little shits. I wonder how long before humans evolve pre-hunched spines and eyes designed for point blank screen reading, I pondered idly. That is, if computer screens are still relevant after the zombies, or aliens, or nukes, or whatever. I realized that it didn't matter to me either way, and returned my attention to the screen before me.

My eyes flitted back and forth across the page, left and right, left and right, left and right, scrolling down every few seconds with a subtle twitch of a finger. I eagerly devoured the story before me with brutal efficiency; absorbing the words, analyzing, judging them. I sometimes wonder if I should feel bad for reading over in minutes what probably took hours of hard work to write, but I digress.

I scoff in disbelief. Madoka and Sayaka? An item? Yeah right! I shook my head solemnly at the scandal of it all. Granted, I understood full well that the Madoka Magica fan base did more shipping than the goddamn Panama Canal, but there are limits. MadoHomu – fine; KyoSaya – good; MadoMami – whatever. But Madoka and Sayaka?! I swear, the audacity of it all!

I clicked on the chat box hidden behind another tab and type:

'Hey Im reading this fanfic, it ships Mado x saya. Thats some bullshit amiright!'

I switched over to deviant art while I wait for a response. As I browsed through some pictures of Nagisa and Mami looking very cute together, I could feel some of the crusty, black ichor melting away from my heart. I lingered on one picture of Charlotte in her pre-rebellion human form; the one that the fans imagined themselves, with pick hair and a black polka dot scarf. I always found it amazing how most artists seemed to agree on what she probably would have looked like. They should have just left her be, I thought wistfully, it could have been a huge boon for the fan base.

A message popped up. It reads:

'idk bro, they were really good together in the beginning.'

I make a small sound of annoyance. After all, doesn't everybody know that Sayaka and Kyoko were made for each other? And Madoka practically belongs to Homura. Breaking up both of the strongest ships in the fandom was basically blasphemy.

I sent a message to that effect, to which the response came quickly.

'Don't be a hater.'

I let out a noise of frustration. He clearly didn't understand.

I went back to browsing the artwork in sullen silence. As if to prove a point, I searched for images of Sayaka Miki. My screen instantly filled with blue. There were pictures of her among the other four, pictures by herself, and some pictures of her with Kyoko, striking epic poses or otherwise being all cute together. I nodded, satisfied. No Madoka.

One image showed Sayaka with a mermaid tail, several pounds of gold bling, and a jauntily backwards baseball cap, looking like she was ready to bust some rhymes or engage in other delinquent but undeniably cool activities. The caption read: "bitches love mermaids." That made me smile.

Another picture depicted Kyoko and the blue hair beauty sharing a stick of pocky, blushing slightly. Too kawaii, I thought to myself, stifling a self-conscious blush as I forcibly reminded myself of why it is okay for a guy to love this series in the first place. Blood, despair, style, I repeated. The fights, the story, the character development, the mind-fuckery. That`s why I love it. The cuteness is just a side dish.

Masculinity reassured, my attention drifted to an image that was slightly less heart-warming. It showed a beaten and bloody Sayaka hanging limp in Kyoko`s arms. Kyoko`s face was wrought with despair, tears flowing down her cheeks as she held onto the blue-haired girl. It stirred up a storm of sad emotions in my chest.

My eyes were drawn to another image of Sayaka and Kyoko. In this one, Kyoko was pinned to the ground by familiar looking sabers, while Sayaka held both hands around her neck, apparently strangling her. They were both bloody and disheveled, and their hair hung over their eyes. The whole thing screamed of tragedy.

Frowning, I scrolled down the page. Another picture jumped out at me, this time of Sayaka alone and looking absolutely terrifying. She was surrounded by her swords and the long black shadows that could only mean she was fighting Elsa Maria. Her face was obscured by wild blue hair and shadow, but her eyes….oh god, the eyes. They were wide open, pupils dilated, and they screamed of insanity and bloodlust. The overall effect was quite disturbing.

I leaned back in my chair, my brow furrowed in thought. My finger began tapping the desk in rhythm, seemingly of its own accord.

It`s so tragic, I thought to myself. Not just Sayaka, but Kyoko and Mami too. And don't even get started on Homura, that`s like…a whole different level of fucked up. This whole show is just so tragic. It's like Urobuchi went out of his way to shit on these characters I love so much.

I found my way into my bed, still thinking about my favorite anime.

It`s not fair. Kyoko, Sayaka, Mami….what did they ever do to deserve it all? What did they do to get fucked so badly? If only there was some way to make it better…..something I could do to help them…..

If only I could save them all….

Have you ever noticed the weird way you notice things as you wake up? It`s like as you ascend into the realm of consciousness, the first things you start to feel are shit that your brain would normally deem too unimportant to bother you with directly. On this particular morning, for example, I noticed the feeling of being sideways first, then the warmth of my pillow, then the texture of said pillow and its pressure on my face, and finally I felt the light of the morning sun across the one eyelid that was posed to receive it.

I breathed a morning sigh, full of resignation and slightly bitter disappointment at the knowledge that at some point in the future I would have to get out of bed. I shifted comfortably beneath the blanket. The future can go suck a fat one, I thought, resolving to get up after five more minutes.

The sun cast an obnoxious red glare on the back of my eyelid, and I cursed myself for leaving the blinds open last night. I briefly considered getting up to close them, but quickly dismissed the idea as too much effort. Oh my God, why didn't I close the fucking blinds last night, I berated myself, it`s not like the sun doesn't come up every fucking day –wait….hold up. Of course I didn't close the blinds, I never close the blinds, 'cause my house is in the shadow of a huge fucking apartment building. I haven't woken up to the morning sun in years…..I cracked open an eye and peered out the offending window into the blue sky and brilliant sun beyond.

I slowly sat up and looked around. It definitely looked like my room, where I had definitely gone to sleep last night, but….

I got up and looked out the window at a totally unfamiliar landscape.

"Da` fuck is this," I mumbled out loud.

"Good morning," said a voice behind me.

I jumped straight up in the air and spun around, eyes wide with surprise. Or at least I assume they were. Obviously I couldn't see them, but I`m told that eyes tend to do that when people get surprised, and I`d say I was pretty damn surprised at that moment.

The voice came from an unfamiliar Japanese man sitting on the corner of my desk. He wore a nice business suit and looked to be much older than me.

"AAHHH!" I said, frowning internally. That was supposed to have been something closer to "who are you and where am I?"

I tried again a moment later. "What the…who…what?!" I sputtered. Stupid mouth.

"Do no be afraid, zis is happy place full of magic and happy," he spoke with a heavy Japanese accent, and raised his hands mystically as he talked. "You will be safe here wiz me."

"….Huh?"

He raised his eyebrows and did a bit of jazz hands for emphasis as he continued. "You are in craaaaazy dream world, where all your wish can come true – hey, where you go?"

I pushed past the strange man and rushed over to the door of my bedroom. I knew that when strange men appear in your room and then specifically tell you that you have nothing to fear from them, it`s time to get the fuck out.

There aren't any guns in the house (thanks MOM) so my best bet is probably a kitchen knife or something, I reasoned. I yanked open the door and burst out into what should have been the second floor of my home, with the shaggy carpet, a bathroom to my left, two bedrooms on the right, and the stairs right ahead. Except, you know, it wasn't.

I stopped dead in my tracks as I found myself outside on what appeared to be the second level of an extremely high class…motel? Whatever. Not important, and not why I stopped dead in my tracks like a retarded deer, nor was it the reason why I was currently having trouble breathing. No, that was all because of whom else was out there with me.

She was a teenage girl, maybe 14 or 15 years old, about a head shorter than me, and dressed in a Japanese school uniform. It`s worth noting that her tits were crazy huge for her apparent age, but it was her hair that caught my eye: shoulder length and blonde, and done up neatly in a pair of curly, drill….things. I knew who she was.

I gasped dramatically, and it took all I had not to faint like an old lady. I felt like a teenage fan girl who had just run into….oh I don't know, whoever fan girls are swooning over these days. Omygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygodomygod!

She walked past me with barely a glance, a tote bag slung over one shoulder.

I held my breath as she passed me. I stood there indecisively for a moment, bouncing on my feet excitedly before I called at her back, "Miss, uh, Tomoe-san!"

Mami stopped and turned on her heel to face me. My heart leapt into my throat and did a little dance there.

"Hello?" she said politely. Always polite, that Mami Tomoe.

"Uh, yeah, I uh….hi," I stumbled, realizing I had no idea what to say to her. Hell, what did I want to say to her? There were so many questions to ask, so much to say….I had to warn her, didn't I. Warn her about….everything, I guess?

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing coherent came out.

Mami, who had been waiting for a few seconds now for me to break my increasingly uncomfortable silence, turned to walk away, saying, "please excuse me, I have to go to school now."

"Why muskets?" I blurted out.

She froze in place, her blonde drills swaying slightly at the sudden stop.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked over her shoulder. There was something quietly dangerous in her voice. I wondered if maybe I shouldn't have said anything.

But I boldly continued. "Well, the thing with the muskets is cool and all, don't get me wrong, but wouldn't it technically be more useful to use, say, fully loaded assault rifles, or rocket launchers, or, ya know…..anything else?"

Mami was silent for a tense moment. "I should really go to school now," she said deliberately, and with that she walked away, perhaps a bit more quickly that was necessary. I watched her go.

A tiny cough brought my attention back to the doorway I had come out of, where the Japanese man from before was standing patiently. "Are you finished," he asked, not really a question, and I noticed his English accent had dramatically improved form the first time he spoke. "because you kind of ran out before the whole 'explanation' thing could really, uh…happen. Soooo…" He gestured and I followed him back inside.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"Ah. See, there`s the tricky bit," he began. "You know the anime Puella Magi Madoka Magica?"

Duh, it`s like, my favoritest thing EVER!

"I…know of it." I had the feeling that this guy was messing with me like something fierce.

"Well, that is where you are," he explained, "in the anime."

"….In the anime."

"Well, no not in the anime anime but rather, if the anime were real, that is where we would be."

"Oh." I mulled that over. "So then…" I jerked my thumb in the direction of the departed girl.

"Yes, that was really Tomoe Mami, exactly as she is in the first episode."

"What about the others," I asked, trying to keep the resurging excitement out of my voice. Lord knows I had always wondered what it would be like to meet Kyoko. Oh, and Homura too, I corrected myself, no, especially Homura.

"They are all here," he assured me with a broad grin. "Everything is here."

This is almost too good to be true. It`s like a fan boy`s wet dream!

"Hold up," I said as a thought struck me, "can I, uh, interfere. Like maybe change the story a bit?"

"That is literally why you are here," he confirmed. "I have granted your wish, the opportunity to change the fates of your beloved shoujos."

A huge grin tore across my face. With a bounce in my step, I headed for the door to my little room away from home.

Curiously, he followed me. "Where are you going?"

"I`m going to save them," I answered, full of purpose. "Sayaka, Mami….I`m going to save them all."

I stopped with one foot out the door and looked back at the strange Japanese man. "Almost forgot to ask," I said, half apologetically, "Who the hell are you?"

"Oh, you probably heard of me already," he said, somewhat sheepishly, "if you`re into Madomagi, that is. On the internet, some call me the Butcher."

I let out an involuntary gasp. "I know who you are!" I exclaimed, "You`re the writer! You wrote Madoka Magica!"

He smiled, pleased at my reaction, and tipped an imaginary hat. Only it wasn`t imaginary for long, as a fedora seemed to materialize in his hand as he completed the maneuver, plopping it onto his head at a jaunty angle.

"That is me," he confirmed, deliberately straightening his fedora. "But in here, you can call me God."

…..

I strolled through the streets of Mitakihara, soaking in the sights. This truly is a beautiful city, I thought wistfully, such interesting architecture. Of course when I say I strolled through the streets, I mean so literally, as in walking down the middle of the road. There were no cars to trouble me and no other people to question me. The silence was….unsettling.

"Hey, what`s up with this?" I asked the Butcher, who walked along beside me.

"With what?" he countered.

I waved my hand around vaguely. "Where`s all the people?"

He glanced around as if noticing for the first time, then shrugged. "Shaft." As if that explained everything. "But forget about the boring stuff, who are you going to save first? How are you going to do it? Come on, give me details."

"Oh, um, it`s gotta be Mami first, right," I said, slightly off put by the sudden enthusiasm. "She`s the first to die. I don't know how yet, but I have to stop Charlotte from eating her."

"Hmm. Interesting." He stared off into the distance, apparently lost in thought.

I suddenly felt less confident in my plan. "What? Is Mami the wrong one to focus on?"

His eyes snapped back to me with a start. "I would not question your choice of target," he said, "But Tomoe Mami is….do not assume that it is enough just to save her life. That girl is all kinds of fucked in the head." He emphasized the point by tapping me hard in the forehead, although in retrospect it was unclear exactly how this was supposed to emphasize said point. "Even if you stop her losing her head, she might still….ah…lose her head."

"I'll keep that in mind," I mumbled pensively.

It was true what he said. Historically speaking, Mami did not have a great track record in the mental health department. Her default state of being seemed to be lonely and miserable, and she has tried to kill herself/friends on multiple occasions. I remember somebody once described her as 'strong in the arm, weak in the heart.' If I was going to save her life, I needed to ensure that she wouldn't kill herself or anybody else afterwards either. But I could worry about that later.

"I need to save her from Charlotte first," I said out loud. "Do I have any, like, superpowers or something? Like, that I could fight with."

The Butcher shook his head sadly. "No, no, no," he intoned ruefully, "you do not have any powers like that, and even if you did you could not fight with them. I sincerely hope your plan to save Mami was not to go and kill the witch Charlotte for her?"

"Uh…" Not to say that was my whole plan, but….yeah.

"You cannot directly interfere like that. Don't forget that you are not a character in this story, just a spectator."

"What`s that supposed to mean," I asked quizzically.

"It`s like…you are here with them, but this is still their story. You can interact to a certain extent, but you cannot actively participate because you aren't a real character. Barely even an extra, in fact." He sniffed haughtily. "I don't allow self-inserts."

"Then how am I supposed to help anyone?" I asked, confused.

"There are other ways of exerting influence. In this world, people cannot hear us or see us unless we invite them to, and they will forget us soon afterwards." He held up a finger as I began to protest. "But, they will remember what we say. We can plant ideas in their head, and if we are careful, we can make them do what we want. In this way, we manipulate events by manipulating people. The chess master pushes his pawns to fight, but he does not knock over pieces himself."

"I see, I see." I nodded my head knowingly. "Wait…nope. Still don't get it."

He sighed. "Perhaps an example will help."

He snapped his fingers and suddenly we were standing on a sidewalk in a totally different part of the city. Walking toward us from the left was Mami, humming softly to herself. As she neared us, the Butcher said, "Good morning," in a cheery sort of voice.

"Good morning," she echoed in the exact same tone, barely glancing up as she passed us by. She gave no indication that she remembered anything from our previous encounter.

"Huh. It`s like she didn't even recognize me. And we just talked like, what, ten minutes ago?"

"Yes, she has already forgotten your face, and even that you existed at all," said the Butcher, "but here is the important thing: the next time she summons a musket, she may think to herself, 'why do I only summon muskets when I could be using assault rifles or rocket launchers?' Later, she may even try to summon something else to fight with, all because of your suggestion."

"Huh." I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "So what you`re saying is, even though I can`t kill the witch myself, I can manipulate someone else to do it for me?"

"Correct."

We stood there in silence while I pondered. Or perhaps 'schemed' is the better word.

Homura could beat her, right? Easily. Wait, she`s going to try to help anyway, but Mami does that thing with the ribbons….so not Homura. Sayaka? If she were contracted they could defeat it together. No, if Sayaka contracts then eventually she will witch out. Stopping her contract should be a priority. And I guess Madoka is out of the question too. Then that only leaves….

"I know what I have to do."

"Hmm?"

"I`m going to Kazamino."