The First (and last) Author's Notes you'll see in this fic: First off, thanks a lot to those who have been reading this fic so far. For the sake of the story's tone and flow, I have simultaneously released two chapters. I hope that you've enjoyed reading this fic as much as I did writing it.

Now, let me bring you the two last chapters of A Cycles Story. Enjoy.

3-3

CUT TO: A music player spinning a CD precariously like a sawblade machine.

CUT TO: A bag of tapes Our Protagonist bought for her Lover, meticulously picked and shrewdly bargained for, labors of love because nothing short of it was worthy of fulfilling her self-satisfaction.

CUT TO: Our Protagonist sitting next to her Lover's bed, on a weary, but devoted vigil for his health.

Music plays in the background. It is not the kind of music you would like to hear at such a moment, but it is music. It is necessary for this scene to work.

"What are you listening to?" she asks, wanting to break the silence that had been over them for almost half an hour.

"The Girl with the Flaxen Hair," he says, saving his breath, a treasure worth jealously guarding.

Just so you know, The Girl with the Flaxen Hair is not the music playing in the background. We do not have the Lover's ears, only his cryptic dialogue.

"Oh, that's Debussy! It's a beautiful song," she says, excited that she finally has a hook to start conversation with. "Um… you know what, it's kinda funny, but… I-I don't really think that people really see me as the type who'd listen to stuff like classical music." She even throws a little check mark with her hand to add flourish to what she was saying. Just for its sake. "And whenever I can name a piece correctly, seriously, you should see their faces! It's like they're impressed that I know about that stuff…"

Her Lover does not answer. It seems that he's either asleep, not listening, or both. He could be dead, maybe. Who knows? Our Protagonist is surprised at this, and decides to drop something off in hopes of getting his attention. "Everything I know about it is because of you. Seriously, though, I would never even listen to classical music ever if it… wasn't for you, you know…"

You bitch.

"Hey, Sayaka…"

Her Lover finally speaks. Our Protagonist's heart might've fluttered. But we do not have her heart, only the look of surprise on her face.

"Yeah?" she asks, a bit modestly in a bid to hide her excitement.

"…Cut it out. Stop torturing me already."

She gasps. The words may have not been processed correctly, but she knows their implications. The shock leaves her searching frantically for words.

He takes off his earphones, regards Our Protagonist with a stare that would've turned an ordinary girl into a piece of Antartica, or at least made her feel that she ought to be there. "Why do you keep coming here?" he asks. "Do you think I like listening to this music? It's like you're trying to hurt me."

She is not in Antartica yet, but the message is clear, shocking her. If she were weaker, she might not even speak another word for the rest of her life.

"Bu-But, Kyosuke, I… I thought you loved music—"

"I don't want to hear this crap anymore!" He holds his forehead, maybe trying to smack Our Protagonist but stopped himself, then smacking himself as punishment. We wouldn't know. We not have his mind, only his actions. "All I can do is listen! I… I just… arrrgh!"

No, he did not turn into a pirate. Maybe smacking himself isn't enough. Maybe he wants more punishment, maybe enough to destroy himself. We would not know exactly what his impulse is, but we do know what his impulse brought him to do.

A chop at the sawblade music player, the spinning CD splinters into thousands of little bits. Blood splatters from the offending hand across the blankets. Our Protagonist stands, shocked as her seat drops behind her. Afraid that her lover might injure himself more, she grabs hold of his hand. They both take deep breaths in exhaustion, before both of their bodies start shaking. Maybe out of desperation, sorrow, or maybe just plain despair.

"I… I can't move it," he cries. "I can't even feel the pain anymore! My hand's useless!"

"It's going to be okay. I'm sure someday, somehow… don't give up hope!" She says this with stars in her eyes, a smile in her lips. "They'll figure something out!"

You bitch.

You bitch.

You bitch.

"But they came and told me to give up!" he cried. And there were blobs of tears at the edge of his eyes. "They said I'll never play again. The Doctor told me. He said that current medicine can't help anymore. My hand is never going to move right again… Unless magic and miracles suddenly become real."

And this is it. Destiny had preordained her Lover say those last seven words. Though maybe the words were just a coincidence that fit with Our Protagonist's take on the meaning of the word 'magic' and 'miracles'. But maybe it was already designed to be that way, that the auspices of Fate had defined that Kyosuke Kamijou say these very words one afternoon in April of 2011. Always say those words someday on April of 2011. Every April of 2011.

The Why and the How of the existence of those words were unimportant anyhow. It is how those seven words had influenced Our Protagonist to make a decision that would've changed her life.

She already had her hand on the doorknob a long time ago. She was just waiting for an excuse.

"But they are!" she says with the determination fueled by the stars in her eyes, now supernovas giving her last breaths to inspire her dreams. Maybe signal her death knell. Who knows? "Miracles… Magic… They are real."

And in her eyes, we see Mephistopheles' silhouette. Before CUT TO: Our Protagonist leaning on the bed, staring out into the afternoon glow.

Whether her life changed for better or for worse, we do not know.

You bitch.

You bitch.

You bitch.

You… BITCH!

Xxx^.^xxX

"YOU BITCH!" she cried at the TV. "YOU DIRTY BITCH!"

I don't know where I am right now. I was watching myself sitting on the sofa, screaming at the television. Where was I? Maybe standing somewhere near the snack bar, or leaning on the door to the toilet.

Was I having a sort of out-of-body experience? I couldn't think of how exactly I was able to do this, but here I was, watching myself scream my own heart out at the television, streams of tears flowing out of my own eyes. Was I going crazy? Maybe just thinking of the notion already proved it as so.

But who was she screaming at? I knew that I was screaming at Momoe. She watched the tapes, looked into my private life. She invaded my personal space. Defiled it. I couldn't forgive her for doing that to me. I was angry, I really was.

But why is it that I was screaming at the television? Could I really be sure that I was angry just at her?

Maybe I wasn't angry at Momoe at all.

I sat next to myself, regarded this other Me with a stare. I watched her rage, I watched her cry. During the whole moment, I thought I saw the full range of emotions I was capable of. I then closed my eyes, opened them again, and I was back in my own self. I wasn't watching another Me anymore. My fists were closed, ready to be banged on some table. My throat felt sore, my cheeks felt wet.

Fortunately, I was able to calm myself down after a while. I was poured myself a glass of Royal Crown Cola, just to let something cold go through my system. I don't really drink this usually, but it was all that I had.

I heard someone open the door, and of course I turned around. It was Kyosuke, in his school uniform and gray hair, smiling at me. He didn't have his violin, but that was fine.

Ah, right. Kyosuke had been here. He had always been here in the Cycles. I can't exactly say when he got here. Maybe he had just gotten here. Oh, I dunno. He was always here. And even though he was still with Hitomi, he cheated on her.

Yeah, he'd always been cheating on her. Who was he cheating with?

Me, of course.

"You're here," I said, stating the obvious.

His eyes studied me up and down, before stopping at my face. Maybe he noticed how red it was. "You've been crying."

For a few moments, no words came between us. At that point, I thought that I had an inborn talent for making such awkward silences. I didn't know what to do with myself. Part of me wanted to say something, the other wanted to just stay standing, frozen in time.

I offered my cup. "Um… Do you want some soda?"

He shook his head, and beckoned me to come with him somewhere.

"Where are we going?"

"Your office, Sayaka," he said with that familiar voice. "Follow me."

Xxx^.^xxX

Did anybody know that Cheese is the most popular food in the world?

Sayaka certainly didn't know this. But Kyosuke said this, so it must be true.

"A cheese may disappoint," he says, biting a piece of crumbly Roquefort cheese on a little plate with some honey and nuts. "It may be dull, it may be naïve, it may be over-sophisticated. Yet it remains cheese—milk's leap towards immortality."

"Did you write that?" she asks, taking a bite of cheddar on her lazy-boy chair. Roquefort was too strange-looking for her tastes.

He shakes his head. "Nope. Some American did. His name escapes me, though."

"Milk's leap towards immortality, huh? Sounds kind of like something one of those new pseudoscience religions would say."

"Well, yeah, I guess you can say that. But what the phrase really talks about is how different Cheeses taste. Technically, Cheese is milk you separate into curds, mix with fungi and leave to basically rot. A process like that produces many flavors, and since what kind of cheese tastes good and what tastes bad depends on the person doing the tasting, they can both be disappointing, dull, naive or over-sophisticated. But in the end, Cheese has affected us so much that as a society, as people actually, that no matter how much of it you may hate a certain kind, it will still be there because a lot of other people who love it. Hence, Cheese lives forever."

Hearing such an explanation, Sayaka can't help but nod. Kyosuke was always so good at explaining things like that. He was so smart. "You must really love Cheese, do you, Kyosuke?"

"Cheese is love," he says. "Cheese is life."

Having finished her wedge of Cheddar, Sayaka is now confused as to what cheese she would choose on her Cheese Plate. "What will you do if Hitomi finds out about… us?"

A confident smile mounts itself on his lips. "She's not important right now. She never was." He notices Sayaka's predicament, and stands up to offer a hand, picking up a whitish cheese with a thick, soft yellow-green crust. "I suggest you try eating this, Sayaka."

A strange smell climbs up to her perception. "Ugh! What is that?"

"It's Taleggio, an Italian Cheese made in Lombardy. It's a soft cheese created by monks, who washed their cheese wheels repeatedly to clean off any fungi or mold. What they didn't know is that they ended up encouraging more bacteria to grow in the cheese instead. It created a pungent flavor, and an even more pungent scent. It kinda smells like feet, but if you taste it, it's rich, kind of like butter. And if you eat it with the green rind, it becomes kind of salty and grainy since it's been washed in brine a lot."

The smell is enough to turn Sayaka off, but if Kyosuke said it was good, then… "Okay, I'll try it."

Sayaka cuts the cheese.

No, she did not fart. Don't be so immature. You're better than this.

She tastes it. Actually, it wasn't so half-bad.

"Told you it was good," he says.

She nods. It certainly is. "I can't believe it."

It doesn't take them long to finish all of the cheeses on the plate.

"So, what now?" she asks.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"

"That's easy," she says. "You're cheating on Hitomi again, just like always."

"Sayaka…"

"You don't have to be embarrassed. Besides, it's not as if she'll up and turn into a magical girl to come here, right?"

He shakes his head. "No. This has to stop. I shouldn't have… I shouldn't have let this go further than it already has."

Worried that her lover was going through something, she stood up. "What are you talking about?"

"Sayaka," he says, drawing away from her. "Stop this."

"Stop what?"

"This is not healthy for you. You can't keep living like this."

The heat. The heat above her ear. It's come back. The wooziness makes her blink, she's losing balance.

"This is my fault," he says. "I can't bear seeing you hurt yourself like that. I shouldn't have let my own needs come first. I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have..."

"No, this isn't your fault." She sincerely thinks that Kyosuke is worried about their affair. "I'm the one who wanted this!"

But he ignores her, makes his way to Momoe's desk.

"What are you doing there?" she asks.

Kyosuke takes up her Secretary's bag.

"Don't touch that; that's my Secretary's!" she cries. "She'll get mad. She's mad at me as it is!"

In a single motion, he throws the bag at the ground, letting its contents spill before Sayaka.

She stares at the mess made, before looking back up at Kyosuke. "Look at what you've done! Clean this mess up!"

"Sayaka, snap out of it! Listen to yourself!" he yells. "Can't you see what's on the floor?"

She takes a second look. Turns out that Momoe's bag doesn't contain documents at all. It's filled with clothes. Many pairs of clothes, all her sizes. A red coat, a black skirt, a white blouse, a tight green skirt… None of these details make any sense to Sayaka. She fails to understand the implications.

Looking for an answer, she directs her eyes back to Kyosuke. But he's not there anymore. Just this girl with her pink hair tied in a single tail, wearing his uniform.

Sayaka couldn't believe her eyes. "Wh-Who…?"

"Sayaka, please stop this," she says.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, Nagisa."

She shakes her head. "No, you're Kyosuke…"

"There is something you need to know."

"You're supposed to be Kyosuke…"

"There is something wrong with you," she says. "I don't know what it is, but it's dangerous for your mind."

Sayaka truly, sincerely believes that only Kyosuke should be standing in place of the girl. Who was that girl anyway? Why is she interfering? What did she do to her lover? "Why aren't you Kyosuke?"

"This is the fourth time this has happened, Sayaka…"

"Tell me where Kyosuke is!"

"Listen to me…"

"Tell me now! Or else I'll… I'll…"

Sayaka draws a sword from her cape.

"I'll kill you!"

"At Tanhauser Gate, I told you about this. Everything. But you… something happened to you and… it led to this."

"Tell me where Kyosuke is!"

"Madoka, she… you couldn't accept why she became that. Why you had to hide it all from her..."

"Sh-Shut up!"

Sayaka's sword drops on the floor. She covered both her ears and curled into her lazy-boy, hugging her knees.

"I don't want to hear any of this!" she cries.

"Listen, Sayaka! Face the truth! The Goddess, Madoka, you know all of this but I'll tell you one last time. She… does something to all the souls she takes into the Cycles. I can't say what exactly, but after she picks up those souls, they only remain… happy. That makes sense, of course. How will you keep peace in a place that's filled with nothing but girls that died from despair that almost consumed them, who have known nothing but fighting most of their lives? This is because Madoka, she's…" Nagisa herself seems to be breaking as she says these words, but she steels herself. She needs to make Sayaka see her point. "She's neither a Magical girl or a Witch, but she is both of them at the same time. The Cycles is her barrier, Agents are her Familliars, the Souls that we pick up are her victims. Doesn't that make too much sense…?"

No, it does not. No, IT DOES NOT!

Sayaka shakes her head vehemently. "Shut up! Madoka… She's not like that! Stop making lies about her!"

"I thought that you would have agreed to hide this from the Goddess, but you reacted exactly the same way you did now…"

"Hide?" If she remembers correctly, Sayaka never agreed to do such treachery. "I'd never hide anything from Madoka!"

"Us Agents, we're… we're the Goddesses' shield, and we're not only here to protect her, but to make sure she keeps pure. Do you know how volatile her wish is? I know you do; stop pretending that you don't! Yes, she can defeat all Witches in the past, present and future. But nobody has ever said anything about what steps she has to take or what she has to become in order to do so. In an instant, she can become the greatest Witch in the universe and consume all of the others in one stroke. Maybe the number of Witches will be so great that Physics and the Law of Equilibrium will just change what living creature exactly is defined as a 'Witch' instead, and destroy those. Maybe it will just turn Madoka into a bomb that wipes out all of existence. I've already told you this before, didn't I? Why do I have to explain it to you over and over again like this…?

"In order to avoid these scenarios from happening, we absorb all her negative energies—bad memories, bad emotions, bad thoughts. We keep her pure, so when she purges Witches from the universe, she remains pure while we take her Grief. That's why we're different from the rest of the souls in the Cycles. We can feel, they don't. We know the truth that nobody else, not even the Goddess herself knows. And this truth, I know how it's crushed you. I understand you completely. That's why I… that's why I…"

"But if that's true, then… that doesn't make us any different from evil."

"We're not evil, Sayaka—you're the one that's thinking we're evil! It's why you're stuck like this."

Nagisa walks up to Sayaka's desk, and stares at Nagisa with the eyes of who was on the midline between the chasms of death and despair.

"I can't stand see you do this to yourself anymore, Sayaka," she says. "You and me, since we're Agents, we're the only ones who can understand each other now. I need you, and you need me. I don't want to be alone anymore, I know you're thinking the same. Why can't you just let go of your past and just get over yourself already?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Sayaka cries.

"She's going to replace you, you know? She's bound to do that some day from now. The Goddess couldn't connect with you, so she's going off to find another one she might find as a suitable candidate. You've already lost her; why cling to her when she doesn't want you anymore?"

"It doesn't make any sense!"

"You only have me left," Kyoko says. "Pick me."

"You only have me left," Mami says. "Pick me."

"You only have me left," Kyosuke says. "Pick me."

Sayaka stares at these figures before her, before sitting properly on her chair, leaning on her desk, crying her eyes out.

3-4

"How was your day?" Kyoko asked.

"It was… well, you know. Something." Sayaka snuggled closer to her breasts.

The redhead knew better than that, though. "You're having trouble with something, aren't you?"

"It's…" She shook her head. "I'll get over it."

"Sayaka. Don't act like that. You know how worried I get when you're like this."

"It's not worth talking about."

Kyoko leaned her lips near her ear. "Sayaka."

"I told you; it's nothing, alright? Geez, why are you so persistent…?"

Kyoko disappeared, and she heard another voice. "Will you tell me, then?"

Sayaka turned her head, and saw Kyosuke on her hips, leaning over her with a smile. The blunette felt an inscrutable feeling of embarrassment mingling with guilt, making her think that the two feelings must have the same basis somehow. The poignancy of it all put her on the verge of tears. "You ran away from Hitomi again."

The boy caressed her cheek with a warm hand. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"

"You're… get away from me." She tore her head away from him, an inscrutable smirk. "You're cheating on her again."

The moon shined a silver light from the glass windows. Within it, Kyosuke's smile seemed to radiate some sort of majesty no one else could comprehend but her. A shining nebula from whom the songs of the secrets of life came from. He leaned in closer, letting Sayaka feel his warm skin touch hers, senses reacting to the slightest brush, the slightest pulse of heat in one area and the next. As they united, she felt her own life flow through these pulses of heat, her own self, her own soul leaking through the cracks.

"No… don't."

"You don't have to tell me anything," he said, hot breath brushing her lips. "I know what is happening to you now."

"Kyosuke… stop."

"Don't draw away from me like that, Sayaka. You don't have to suffer like that."

"Please stop. I beg you; stop before I—"

From somewhere, a jolt went up her body. Her nails dug themselves deep into her thighs, their own signals countering the jolt. But instead of stopping them, the jolt became fuller, more rounded, more real, harder and harder to resist.

"You've suffered enough, Sayaka."

She uttered a small yelp.

"Please… Please…"

"You've suffered enough."

"No, please. Not… not in there… not in there…"

"What you did was right," he cried. "What you did was right!"

"No… no… NO!"

A steady stream was already falling down the sides of her eyes. Wrath, gluttony, envy and lust melted into the most concise of forms. The jolts had become harder, and she braced herself for the finale that was sure to come. But nothing. But nothing.

Her nails had made deep wedges in the skin of her thighs, but they drew no blood.

"What I did was right. Right?"

Kyoko stroked her head lightly. "I'm sorry, but I can't really say for sure."

"It should be. I mean, I had to. Madoka, I would've destroyed her if I didn't."

"I don't know."

"Is that all you can say?" the Girl asked. "You don't know?"

"All I can do for you is shrug," Kyoko said.

"Maybe you want to hear what I have to say," another voice said.

Who was that? Kyoko had disappeared, and now there was someone else leaning on Sayaka. A girl with long ebony hair, an earring in the shape of a salamander, her creamy white skin glowing in the moonlight. She looked up at the blunette, and without warning she touched her lips against hers.

Like how a needle pricks, a balloon pops.

"Hi there, Alice. How have you been?"

"My name is not Alice. It's Sayaka."

Who was this girl? Why was she on Sayaka? Why Alice? None of the important questions ever come to mind when it's time to ask.

"I see you've changed your name again."

"I've never changed my name."

She felt warm. Very warm. The depths of love, of a mother's womb, of emotion itself. Maybe… maybe she was emotion itself.

"Who are you?"

"Maybe you know. Maybe you don't. I don't really care, either way."

Who knew? Nobody did.

"Why are you here?"

"To check on you."

The girl then gave Sayaka a tap on the cheek, before leaning in for another kiss. As she drew away, a fine line of fluid stretched between both their lips.

"Goodbye."

And so concludes Day 3. There is nothing left but hate.