You know you've made some seriously bad choices when selling your soul to kitty satan and then spending most of your time fighting 10-foot monsters with some nerve and a pointy stick is one of the less fucked up parts of your life.

Yeah. That's me. Sakura Kyouko. Demon-slaying teenage drop-out. And I'm smarter than this.

I'm smarter than getting lured into a dark alley next to the dank, smoky arcade where I kicked the shit out of some handsy but-clearly-quite-popular asshole just a few days before. Being lured by some kid I don't know from Adam who pulls the 'lady someone's hurt' gambit with the big shiny eyes, the whole fallen-down-a-well story updated for the modern age. Yeah. Someone's hurt alright. It's me in like 5 seconds.

I got halfway down the alley when I clocked the meathead blocking the exit and when I whipped round….the asshole was back with a big swollen eye and a few of his friends.

No have-a-go hero is going to see me anyway because I'm squashed to the wall next behind a dumpster being leered at by some big lump with a bike-chain and probably a tiny hard-on and on the other side some short kid with a bumfluff moustache and reptile eyes. The asshole himself is a scrawny little rat with a few scabby-looking piercings, bleach blonde stubble on top and no eyebrows, but he's giving it the big one in front of his buddies.

"You know who I am?"

I say nothing. Just give him the look, the one that shrivels most guys' nutsacks. I don't know him. I don't usually run round these parts. Came here on a whim. Came back because I'm an idiot. But I know his type.

"Hey, bitch. I'm talkin' to you."

I shrug. "Some fuckin' creep who corners a girl five to one?"

"Hey, fuck you!" He gets nice and close. One of his eyes is wandering off. The big lump is breathing heavy, the reptile kid just watching, waiting.

I sneer at him, fold my arms. Look like I'm over it. Like it doesn't matter that there's one of me and five of them.

Ignore the pulse pounding in my chest and neck and mind racing.

I can't transform. Obviously. It's an unwritten rule Kyubey would probably write on my gravestone. I don't have the same power as a civilian, nowhere near. I can scrap, I can punch like a heavyweight, jump high, run fast. But I'm still just a 16 year old girl. A lanky one.

He's leering right in my face now. I didn't even see him before he grabbed my ass, then I just turned and whacked him so hard he went smack bang into one of those glass-front crane games. K.O. Stars and little birds. Got barred for my trouble, too. Bastards. But it was stupid. Impulsive.

I've been in this kind of situation before and it hasn't always ended well. If I kick off and then take one well aimed crack to the stomach or temple or jaw I could be down. I know because I've been on both ends of that one. And then they can take their time doing whatever the fuck it is they want. Let's not go there.

"You're a stuck-up, frigid bitch." He snarls. Sprays a bit of spit on my face. Nice.

For a moment I have the incredibly stupid idea of calling the others for help.

Like Sayaka doesn't already think I'm a waster.

Like Mami hasn't dealt with enough of my crap already.

And then there's Sleeping Beauty.

You got yourself into this mess. You're on your own.

I let myself wobble a bit. Swallow. Unfold my arms. Look around. Suss out the terrain.

"Whatever man." I say. "Look, I get it. My bad." He smirks. This is what he wants.

"That's not gonna cut it, babe. You disrespected me, you know?" Hand on chest. "Hurt me real bad."

The lackeys snigger. I play with my sleeve. Bite my lip.

"So me and my boys here…"

"I'm sorry!" I say. Voice breaking. Raise my hands. He leans in, one hand against the wall by my head, the other touching my waist. He's dumb. Really dumb.

"We're thinking—"

I smash my head down on the bridge of his nose, spat, duck, chain whistles over my head, and send a roundhouse kick outside the left knee of the big guy. Asshole's bent over clutching his face. Lump's leg folds. Sciatic nerve running down that side. Not just a pretty face.

I can do this.

Then my head gets yanked back. I yelp. The reptile-eyed one yanks my ponytail again, and then I hear a shnick noise that sends a jolt of ice straight through my chest.

I elbow backwards – feel it connect – he lets of my hair as I spin round to meet him, and lunges forwards with the knife. There's a burst of fire in my left forearm but then the heel of my hand meets his nose and crumples it with a spray of blood. I shove him and run.

The guy at the end of the alley is waiting for me, hunkers down, arms spread. I hurtle over boxes in my way and see another dumpster coming up. There's running feet behind me, angry yells.

I leap up onto the dumpster and then throw myself forwards, legs on fire. Not sure if I can make it. If I land short I'm fucked.

The ball of my foot lands smack on his forehead and he's out.

I hit the floor, and then book it, as fast as I can, running out into the road in front of a truck I'm like 95% sure is gonna stop, hearing the screeching and swearing behind me, buying some time. I duck through traffic and slip down a quiet street full of shops selling second-hand consoles and cameras and whatever anyone else can steal to sell for a quick buck, and then head left, right, round the back of one of the cafes, scrambling over some cages full of cardboard boxes, up onto an air-con unit and pull myself onto a flat roof where I crouch and catch my breath, grab my hoody off and press the inside to my arm which is pissing blood. Flesh wound. Slice, not stab. Still hurts like a bitch though. Nice big tear in the sleeve too. Bastard. Bastard.

I can hear them spilling across the road. They come down the main alley but then they keep going, charging off, all bravado, no balls. That's four hurt egos now instead of one. I know they won't go to the cops, no one likes a snitch, but…not good. Gonna have to wait here now.

I lie flat on the concrete and stare up. Arm throbs. Not a big deal. No need to panic. I just won't look at it. I'm a big girl. Just act normal. Like it's a little nick. I've had worse. Though not from another human (person, for fuck's sake, 'human', like you aren't one) for a long while.

Just a kid. A kid with a knife. Just got unlucky.

Guess I'm not coming back here after all. Figures. Back to the old. Same dance machine I've been playing on for how long now. At least I won't run into any small-fry g-man wannabes there. None I haven't made my peace with, and that's a few. Might have been why I left, come to think of it. Wanted some excitement.

I can practically hear Sayaka's voice. If you'd just come to school you'd have something to do all day.

Yeah. But I'm not like you and Mami. I'm not gonna come out with a fistful of certificates and land my dream job. Might not even live that long.

You're kidding yourselves.

I pull out the old phone she gave me and look at the time through the cracks. Early. Lunchtime, even. Damn it.

Sayaka told me not to come to school during lunches because the teachers give her the second degree if I get spotted and then piss of again. Don't think they approve of a nice girl like her having a delinquent friend like me. Pretend they care where I am or what I'm doing but half of them think I'm a teen hooker and the other god knows. I'm not, by the way. Hookers get paid. I have to take what I can get.

I've got some change but that's mainly for food and it's nearly all gone.

Could go robbing but I'm still jumpy, adrenaline jangling my nerves like piano wire or something, I think I got that kid's blood on me when I popped his nose – and, oh yeah, not to mention a nice big emo slash in my arm. Sayaka hates it, hates it hates it when I steal. Mami just sighs. She knows me better. Somehow when she's disappointed it's worse.

Ok. I've got enough for cheap, packet crap to eat and a magazine. I'll just wrap my hoodie round my arm. Sort it out later. Guess I just wanna go and sit somewhere awhile. Get myself patched up. Chill. Maybe grab a nap before the real excitement starts.

Plus I think it's my turn according to the rota. Not like I don't go instead of either of them all the time anyway.

I'm gonna play Prince Charming.


Come to think of it I've got the key most of the time too. I let myself and a shadow sweeps away from my down the middle of the room.

Tick. Swish. Still haven't figured how to turn the fucking thing off. I started having dreams about it slicing me in half when I first slept here. Dunno why she felt she had to have a guillotine/pendulum thing in her front room but whatever. Not the weirdest thing about her. Be weirder if the apartment was normal.

I chuck the carrier bag on the couch as I walk past, plod to the kitchen, grab the first aid kit off the fridge. Healing factor will sort it eventually but gonna have to do something. Sayaka could just touch the damn thing and bam, gone, but I don't think 'I walked into a door' is gonna cut it (heh).

I don't need to tell her. She'll worry. They'll both worry. It was accident. Could happen to anyone.

Could it?

Whatever.

I take a big gulp of air, turn on the tap and stick my arm under the water.

"Fuuuuuuck."

Doesn't look so bad after a while. Don't think I'm gonna need stitches, anyway.

Probably.

I sit at the table with its one chair, get out all the bits and bobs. Learned to do this a while back. When I was flying solo.

They don't need to know.

The antiseptic stings.

Figure I go a bit lightheaded because I'm hungry. That'll be it.

I grab a plastic-packed sweet roll and tear it open as I clump up the stairs.

There's a nice thick layer of dust on the desk which I've been ignoring for weeks. Shows how long it is since the others were here. I crack the window and as usual, drag the chair round, back facing the bed, straddle it, rip the bread up and start shoving bits in my mouth right-handed.

"Yo." I say. "You'll never guess what happened this morning."

Akemi lies on the bed, stretched out on her back, hands up to her chest, eyes shut.

As it is her hair is the only thing that moves as a nice cool draft comes in. And that weird Gem of hers, bubbles floating from bottom to top over and over like one of those lights with the big globs of oil in. Lava lamps. It's pretty hypnotising.

I check her pulse, check she's breathing, that QB hasn't put a pillow over her face or anything. Same as always. Princess in the glass casket. Only I think Sleeping Beauty pricked herself on a thorn or something feeble like that. Akemi went out in style.

"This asshole. The one who grabbed my ass Tuesday and I smacked him. You remember?"

No, she doesn't.

"He got some little brat to come over and say, like," I put on a high-pitched, whiny voice "'oooh, miss, someone's hurt, my friend's hurt, help me'. And can you believe it, I went into this alley and I was like, where's your friend, and the kid's gone and I turn round and that asshole's coming at me with his shitty little gang…"

I close my eyes while I talk. Kind of easier to imagine someone's listening that way.

Don't know why I do this.

But who can I tell? The other two…they've got school. They've got dreams. They pretend they've got some kind of life with a future and a good job and a boyfriend and the picket fence and all that bullshit. Like that's gonna happen. Like all the normals are ready to give us a free pass for life because we're fighting for love and justice or something. Get real. I gave up on all that a long time ago. Just thought when I met these guys that it could be different. Got a bit idealistic. A bit soft. Living a charmed life. Thought I'd changed my mind.

Guess seeing the strongest of you taken out puts things into perspective. That and the fact it's a losing battle. There's more of them all the time. They're growing. Call it credit crunch, bad economy, decline of religion, whatever. People are depressed. No wonder the wraiths are having a field day out there. A picnic.

"So I just about got out of there, anyway. Guess I can't go back now. It kind of sucks, there were some machines I hadn't been on. Can't believe that kid pulled a knife on me. He got me as well. It's not bad, just bled a bit."

Well.

"I guess," I say, "It did scare me a bit, but I'm ok now. I probably won't say anything about it. Just make them worry."

I know it's a weird habit. We weren't friends. I mean, we fought together to start with, but that didn't last long. Not with Mami's methods and hers. At the time I kind of agreed. Not fair to go blowing shit up and wrecking the place when normal people have to live there. Not fair to risk them with strong attacks if it means victory for sure. Not fair to leave small groups of the wraiths and maybe have one or two casualties in return for us all surviving the big ones and living to take the others out.

Not fair. Not fair.

"Life isn't fair." I tell her. "You get it. The other two don't yet."

She gave me a gun once.

I always felt like she was taking the piss a little bit, like she knew what you were gonna say already, something too serious about her, but we talked. Sometimes about shit the other two didn't want to hear. And she was good at listening. Maybe because she never said much. Well, she's even better at listening now.

I crumple the wrapper in my hand, every crumb picked out.

"See you."

I'm gonna go downstairs, have something to eat, pop some painkillers (not the good stuff, save that for special occasions), read some crappy magazines. God help me but I'm getting kind of into the bullshit stories about cousin's girlfriend's brother's shock secret and wives killing their husbands. I get that it's meant to be a guilty pleasure, but it's kind of not even guilty anymore. Not when you know what people's lives are really like.

I feel a sudden shiver. Not the draft from the window, a shiver like static, a series of zaps. Power. Power not like mine. Cold power. Stronger than ever.

I turn, stare hard. Do her eyelids twitch?

But as quick as it came, it goes.

It happens. Kyubey said we'd probably be able to tell when she was gonna wake up. Got all excited the first time. But it keeps happening, then nothing.

I stay and watch for a bit though. Just in case.

Now, Sayaka. Sayaka wants Akemi to wake up. Desperately. Not because she likes her. She wouldn't piss on her if she was on fire. Not that she'd ever say that. She has nice parents. She lives in a nice house and goes to a nice school. She's a nice girl. But she's got this other side, the side I know best. The harder side. The side that gets things done.

Sayaka wants to know about Madoka.

I don't think there's anything much more to know about Madoka than I've seen on the side of a milk carton below an old picture of a girl smiling nicely for the camera. Sweet. A little dim. A kid, really.

Kaname Madoka. 14. Missing.

I was sat here, in this room with Mami, watching a broken bag of bones breathe in and out, just, when I got the text. The same night. Gone. Yeah. It's a coincidence. But I don't believe in life having any deep meaning or anything being destined to happen. So for me it's pretty much all a coincidence. Just some are shittier than others.

I'm selfish. I want her to wake up too. Because I don't know how much longer we can go on like this. That man, my father. He used to talk about the end of the world. To think, if he was around now, people might actually listen.

I get up and take myself downstairs. Got a little floordrobe over in the corner and I dig another hoody out. Grit my teeth as I pull it on. Bandage a little bulky under my sleeve. It'll pass.

That shiver again. Not usually so close together. Goosebumps on my skin. But I've given up hoping. Whatever happens, happens.

Wake up. Stay asleep. It's all the same to me.

I'm tired. I'll eat lunch and sleep here. Akemi won't mind. Then wake up and fight for my life again. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Bit of excitement. Bit more excitement than getting slashed by some scumbag who doesn't know I could turn his head to red bean paste with one move. Something different. Anything.

Sometimes I think about running away.

But not yet.

Not today.