Her tail had been swords, every scale sharp, cold, and somehow wet. Kyoko's spear had fallen, and she had forced herself to quickly make another.
Her legs had ached, but she still pushed herself forward. She had promised Madoka that she would save Sayaka by whatever means.
I should try and aim for everything, Kyoko thought. Every part of this monster needs to be destroyed.
Already, her mind was filled with images. Her spear would grow larger than life itself, and she would be at the very top of it. It would strike through the witch's arm.
Once she was gone, then perhaps Kyoko could search through the remains. Sayaka still had to be there somewhere; she wasn't the kind of girl who would simply vanish after that.
With shaking legs, she ran forward. A sharp burst of energy ran through her as she pitched her normal sized spear at the monster before her; her spears, no matter the size, were like food, something that she could not afford to waste.
The image of the witch ramming her tail down on all of Kyoko filled her mind. Everything replayed in her mind over and over like a video, one that she had no power to stop watching.
Her scales had hurt even more, covering every part of Kyoko's body. It had been so heavy and moved even faster than before, crushing her as if she were nothing more than a small bug.
Kyoko only felt the pain go away when she saw her body.
Her father had made both this world and the next black and white. There were good people and bad people, and two places where they went. Whenever he had spoken about it, his eyes had shown with confidence, and his words echoed throughout the church.
This was nothing like either world he had spoken of. No deity looked down upon her and wrapped her in their warm hands, pulling her away somewhere else. There was no fire, the place still incredibly wet while showing no signs of water.
The music played on. It had been a long time since Kyoko had memorized the music, performed by a violinist with a face that she could never see. He followed along after the witch, doing his duty to follow along with his director. Never did he tire.
Sometimes, however, his music would change, if only for a few moments. The sound would be different, something more akin to a classical guitar or a piano. His form would shift slightly, making him look like a shape, the idea of a boy.
Still, his hands kept moving, no matter the instrument.
The witch directed him on.
This was not the sound of angels singing.
Kyoko ran and ran, running through the chairs set up for a vague audience. They were all black, faint shapes that looked like splattered paint just barely forming a human. A small few, she noticed as she continued to explore the place until every part of it was etched into her mind, did have splats of hair colors. Pink, yellow, white, and a dark grey.
Sometimes, though she couldn't be sure, she thought that she even saw a flicker of red. Whenever Kyoko turned and looked to it, the patron had vanished.
She had died in her magical uniform and yet stood tall in her civilian clothes. Her hair was still in its ponytail, and her green jacket covered her arms. Sometimes she thought of taking it off for a moment and dropping it down.
Then again, she dared not risk what little that she had left.
Sometimes other magical girls came. None of them were any that Kyoko recognized, and she was all the better for it.
Most died, their bodies falling away into a dark pit. All the while, the boy kept playing, his music never slowing. A few were lucky enough to escape, the girls' bright costumes turning into small dots and they ran away. Those who had managed to escape never came back.
The witch saw them as pests, flies that needed to be swat away as quickly as possible. Once they were gone, she returned to her music.
Kyoko never saw anyone else. Wherever the other magical girls were, it was not here.
She never did look at the audience member with pink hair. Whenever she ran fast, her see through legs floating above them, she would close her eyes for a moment.
Maybe her father was right.
Maybe she was terrible.
Maybe she deserved this.
Kyoko stopped running sometimes, setting herself below the grand stage. Her legs did not ache, but she needed to stop; it was not as though she were growing in red muscles.
A girl in red looked back at her with eyes still wide. The blood on her had long since dried, and a spear lay forgotten at her side. No matter how hard she looked for the bodies of the other lost girls, all that she ever found was this.
Her red stone was broken, her hair covering a small bit of her face.
None of the other magical girls seemed to notice it until it was too late. It would cross their line of vision when they were hurt, when their thoughts had finally been freed from grief seeds.
Sometimes Kyoko saw the mermaid look down upon her. The beast's eyes would look first at the body, and then at her. There was no emotion to be read on it.
Her hand passed through her spear no matter what Kyoko tried.
Sayaka wouldn't want this. The thought had taken a permanent place in Kyoko's mind, echoing through her head.
Her father had believed in heroes, and he had denied the existence of ghosts.
Kyoko had lived to see everything that he had once held true turn false.
Sometimes, on the rare times that the witch looked down to her, Kyoko would survey her whole body. There had to be a missing scale or a crack in her armor.
All she wanted was to see a splash of blue.
It was truly a shame that her wishes never came true.