A/N:So does anybody remember this series of mine? At all? Well, you probably should, it's very fun. Anyway, the original 6k thing wasn't working out so I did this instead. Bit of a short interlude, helping me find the love of Sayaka the main series gave me grief with. Anyway, I'll shut up now.

Challenges: Diversity Writing Challenge: D83. Write an AU

Warnings: PTSD, war!AU, murder, child soldiers, cursing, disabled character, think that's it.

Clear Droplets

She was supposed to be proud of herself.

And she was. Every minute of every day she was.

She was a to be a woman. She was a warrior. She was ready to be sent to train any day now. It was only a matter of time. All the propaganda said so. All the world wanted it so. If they had not, there would have been no fighting in the first place. Even the most foolish of people knew that.

That was, of course, why she had no tears now. There was no need for tears. This was a day of honor, a day of joy and love and excitement beyond any other.

This was the day she was going off to war.

Miki Sayaka was so very proud.

No one else seemed to be. They were silly, foolish little girls. They wanted dolls, wanted games and boys and chances to prove their favor. They wanted babies and happy married lives. That was silly of them. Who would want that? That was boring, ordinary. Well... maybe it suited her friends. However, it did not suit her. Being bloodless did not suit her. She was the strong one; the protector. Sayaka was going to save the world. She would be justice.

She hugged her mom as she thought these words, grinning like a loon. Her mother was crying, of all things. She was going to come back. Honestly, mothers. Madoka's mom wasn't crying. In fact, she was giving her the sternest lecture ever by the looks of it.

"Mum," Sayaka finally complained, pulling herself from the woman's hold. "Ya don't gotta worry about me! I'm gonna be fine. Puella are the best there is."

"It takes a lot to become the best, Sayaka," her mother murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder. Thankfully, she did not hug her again, only smiled with tear-stained eyes. "It takes a lot and it will take you away. You are too young."

"I'm fourteen! I'm of age!" Sayaka bit her tongue so she didn't shout this and startle the rest of the crowd standing at the dock. Her mother was embarrassing her enough for the both of them.

Her father let out one of his world weary sighs and Sayaka couldn't help but whirl on him with anger, blue eyes glowing with all the fury she could manage. She wanted to shout at him. Why didn't they believe in her? They had raised a strong daughter! She had always been the one to protect Madoka, the one who stood up for every bullied kid and injustice in the school! She could do it again. It would be a bit bigger, and they wouldn't all be under her blade, but she could do it! They had raised her to do it! Why didn't they have any faith?

Her father spoke at this thought, as though he could hear it in her mind. "You are a good girl, Sayaka. You aren't that little girl who scraped her knees." She smirked at her mother in triumph before her father completed his words. "But being of age doesn't mean you are ready." He cracked his left shoulder and winced. "There's a reason that societies frowned upon these ages in the history books."

"Yeah, but those coots weren't Puella!" Didn't they get it? She was going to be proud no matter what! She was going to be the soldier and go out and fight no matter what!

A too-rough finger poked her in the shoulder, preventing the eventual rant between her and her mother. (They always seemed to happen, no matter how hard she worked to keep one of them being positive.) She turned to see a familiar face, that of her silent best friend. She quickly latched onto Madoka, grinning behind the girl's ears. "You saved me from another lecture," she hissed with relief. Slowly, two arms hugged her back, one gently tugging at her hair in a scolding sort of way. The other remained still against her spine, fake fingers drumming against the cream-colored fabric of her uniform.

Sayaka was very used to this.

Madoka's free hand tugged at her hair again. Oh, they were making a scene. Who cared? To save the girl some embarrassment, she did pull back. "Ooh, nice ribbons!" Her friend always looked good in red and pink and white, wedding colors, she would think. Or cake colors.

Her friend gave a sheepish, tiny grin and pointed toward the boat. Heh. Sayaka smirked. Time to do what she did best for the rest of the world: fight.

And to protect Madoka. She was her friend, and if it hadn't been for her, she wouldn't be doing this right now.

Metal shrieked with a voice made of nails and she screamed with it, rolling to the ground, to safety. She heard a wail, a horrified wailing that wasn't from her and then a splat, a horrifying splat full of red...

No, she would never let that happen again.

Without looking back, she waved at her parents and left. She was ready for this, for training, for war.

There was no doubt in her mind.

It was lonely now.

She had prepared for everything else. The training had been easy, the teamwork good enough. Most of the girls just weren't as good as she was though, fact of life. (Except Hitomi, who knew she could use knives like that?)

But she hadn't prepared for being alone.

Sayaka didn't like this, not at all. Slowly her friends were leaving, going for the Operation that all the others said changed everything. Every unit leader said it was easy after that. Every single one but Mami-senpai agreed that that was how it worked. That bothered her.

Mami-senpai was practically the best Puella soldier she had ever seen. The propaganda was nothing compared to her. Calm, efficient, focused, she showed them all to use weapons that she couldn't even use. It was so awesome! She even got Madoka transferred out of battle, with a little coaxing of course. She knew people didn't understand Madoka. Most people didn't anyway. That was fine. That was what she was there for. Everyone was able to understand her.

It was almost a little weird.

Now, though, there was nothing. Everyone but her was a newbie in the bunk now. She was the oldest, the only one waiting to leave during the two years between recruitment and real combat. For all she knew, the war would be over before she could fight in it! She was only a few months away; couldn't they just fake it?

No, protocol demanded sixteen until twenty-one. Those were the valuable years and she didn't know why. She didn't care why either. She wanted to do something!

She wanted to be useful.

"Looks like someone is overthinking things a little bit."

The voice made her jump and almost hit her head on the top bunk. "Ma-Mami-senpai! When-When did you-"

"Platoon blade practice started half-an-hour ago," was the calm, if not stern, voice of eighteen-year-old Tomoe Mami. The woman brushed her hair from her face and adjusted her beret, giving Sayaka the best scolding expression she could possibly wear. "And my most senior student was not there giving it her all. I couldn't help but be concerned." Her smile returned and she settled herself on the opposite bed, allowing Sayaka to drop down below.

As she did, the blue girl flushed. "S-Sorry, I just got caught up thinking."

"Well, that's new. No wonder you're still here."

"Se-Senpai!"

Mami giggled, a noise that was oddly young for a seasoned warrior. They don't do that on TV. "You're frightened, is that correct?"

Sayaka felt her face burn. "Wh-What's there to be scared of?"

"The Operation? The unknown?" Mami shrugged, spinning one of her muskets to polish. "That you can't live up to your dreams of glory? Everyone has something."

Sayaka looked down at her lap and clenched her fingers into the fabric of her clothes. "... Akemi didn't look at me when she left."

Mami frowned. "I wasn't aware she was all that fond of you."

Sayaka shook her head. "She was fond of Madoka, and that's all." What she didn't say, and figured that Mami wouldn't care about was that sometimes, Homura was more than fond of her pink best friend, and sometimes frightening, only held back by her own physical weakness and emotional fear. She knew, or hoped, that Homura would do nothing to her if they met again or if they had. Sayaka didn't want to kill a comrade, no matter how much they deserved it. Anyone who could harm Madoka deserved it.

"I fail to see what that has to do with you, Miki-san," her commanding officer said slowly and in an idle sort of way, Sayaka really wondered if it was the woman's business.

Then again, she had checked in on her.

"Akemi cared about Madoka, so Madoka cared about her. And we had a truce, because of that." She shrugged. "She didn't really talk to anyone else. And once Hitomi left and the newbies came around," Sayaka laid back. "I didn't either. But she didn't look back, not even once." She laughed. "Maybe I'm just too used to having all of the attention." Not in a good way either.

Shrapnel howling, people shaking her, gently questioning her and all the while she's screaming for Madoka, screaming until her voice vanishes and they finally see all of the blood-

She blinked, realizing her hand was strangely close to her own neck, scratching small grooves into the skin. Mami was looking at her with both bemusement and concern and she lowered her hand, puzzled.

"Haven't done that in a while," she said thoughtfully. Mami regarded her with a minute frown.

"Perhaps you aren't ready yet."

Sayaka sat up straight. "What? I'm fine!"

Mami shook her head. "if you do that in battle, you will die. I've taught you that, have I not, Miki-san?"

Sayaka flushed. "Well, yeah, but..." At Mami's careful quirk of an eyebrow, she started flapping her hands. "But, but, but, we're not supposed to get nervous in the fight! I'm fine once I'm there. I just, I need to get there, that's all."

Mami regarded her, her golden eyes pitying and too adult and no matter how much Sayaka liked her mentor, she wanted to scream at her. It was too late. She was too old. Much later and they couldn't have the Operation at all and then what? This was her dream. This was her life.

This was her first choice made, ever.

How could Mami just try to take that away?

The kills came with ease.

Some countries had women. Others had men. Some had both.

They all died to her swords.

The training was endless, simulations with as much difficulty as patting a dog. These soldiers were untrained. Their guns shook, their eyes widened. Some ran right into her blade.

The Operation was almost a whisper in her head now. The urge like a cigarette's scent. Take, take, devour, drink.

There was supposed to be honor and glory.

There was way too much red here for honor, not any gold for glory.

Mami was golden for glory.

Look where that had gotten her.

She cut and cut and heard the sound of a violin through one of her earpieces. Her heart swelled for a moment.

It sounded like love.

"Miki Sayaka."

"Homulilly."

Akemi Homura didn't even look at her. Sayaka almost didn't bother. That said, the purple and cream was too uniform, too simplistic. It said more about her than the lack of glasses, the gone ribbons, or the set frown on her lips. They were varieties. That was a similarity.

She almost expected to see pink.

"...Oktavia." An acknowledgement. "You sleep above me."

The underlying question was why. Sayaka decided not to answer it, climbing to her bed so she wouldn't have to look. Not that the bleeding blue, nearly purple eyes intimidated her anymore. They weren't staring at Madoka, so she wasn't too concerned.

Their room was quiet for a while, and to be honest, Sayaka really hated the quiet.

"Kyousuke's dead."

Homura didn't answer immediately. Kyousuke, one of the fool boys who was fulfilling his community service by entertaining Witches with were a dime a dozen. Surely, it was impossible to remember them all.

"You loved him," she said after a while.

"Of course not." Of course I did. I was stupid. Love is stupid and so am I.

"Is that why Hitomi Shizuki is in the hospital, and they're regrowing her flesh?"

Sayaka only let out a barking laugh. "No. That was a perfectly timed accident."

"Bullshit."

Sayaka laughed again, this one more of a surprise. "Yeah, but it doesn't matter as long as it doesn't stink."