EDIT, 12/15/21 - Chapter has been rewritten.

Huh.

The note hadn't made any mentions of the quality of the place I'd be staying at, and now that I looked at it, I sort of understood why.

There wasn't exactly anything really worth mentioning about it at first glance. It was a shade of grayish white, the exact same as the buildings next to it. About five stories tall, with a rather generic-looking sign above the entrance proclaiming what it was to anyone who happened to see it. Or so I thought, at least. Kanji memorization hadn't been my strong suit when I took those Japanese classes back in my freshman year.

Not that I'd really had a strong suit at all. Learning another language is hard, especially one so fundamentally different compared to your native tongue.

The hotel quickly proved only to be unmentionable at first glance, though. The inside seemed fairly well-off, to my mild satisfaction. Nowhere near as glamorous as the stereotypical five-star joint you'd see on billboards and the like, but it didn't have to be. All it needed was to be good enough, and it seemed to understand that.

Practically nothing in the place could be described as shabby in any sense of the word, merely simple. Perhaps even minimalist, though that might be stretching it. Squeaky clean floors, competent customer service despite my near total inability to communicate in the local dialect (mostly because it was digital, but still). And, to top it all off, the kitchen looked amazing. For all intents and purposes, it was perfect.

Credit where credit's due. Whoever my benefactor is, they've got good taste in hotels. I can't think of anything to complain about that doesn't boil down to personal preference.

The room I'd been given was pretty much what I'd expected. A bed, a TV on the opposite wall, a desk and chair off to the side, and a single window. From my inexperienced eyeballing, about…10, 12 feet by 24. Or 28. Whatever. Point is, not too cramped, not too big.

That also included the bathroom, too. Which contained a neat shower-tub combo. Not that I'd be taking any baths with it, but having options was never a bad thing.

It also had a mirror. Which I was currently using to examine myself. Or… my new self.

Perpetually tired yet paradoxically sharp grey eyes stared at the reflection in the glass, stuck on an angular face with an unremarkable nose and lips that always felt a little fatter than everyone else's. Eyebrows that could be considered thick furrowed themselves, inadvertently calling attention to the oh-so-slightly darker patches of skin below the eyelids that never quite seemed to go away. Topping it off was a heap of darkish brown hair that only knew the touch of a brush once every six months, if not an entire year. I never did pay much attention to my hair, save for how I always made sure the wild bangs in the front never got long enough to start obstructing my vision. Haircuts were similarly few and far between, and I'd been dropped here in the later half of my usual cycle for them, leaving it to grow to about halfway down my neck in a mess of strands.

It wasn't entirely what I was used to, though. Two new additions to the style quickly made themselves known—a pair of tangled, longer bangs on both sides stretching down to my chin, framing my face rather nicely.

Huh… sorta reminds me of the sideburns I used to have.

They could probably get in my eyes, if I twisted my head around a lot. But I had to say, they did feel weirdly fitting on this mug of mine.

I think I like it, actually. They look neat. Kinda like Sayaka's, only… messier…

I would later find out from a fit of curiosity that the new 'cushions' on my chest, if you could even call them that, were… average. Nowhere close to a certain blonde's rack, but big enough to put me ahead of the rest of the cast, which to my clueless ass meant that I'd be classing myself as high B to low C. I honestly didn't really know what to think about that. Like, most anime shows had the usual doses of A-cup angst and D-cup distress and other such tropes, but nobody ever seemed to notice the B-cup blandness. When I really looked at it, it ended up feeling like I'd been given the one size that didn't have anything special to go with it just so something out there could have a laugh and go 'yeah, screw you, you ain't shit!' Which just seemed redundant, since I already knew I was a trash-tier waifu. Tell me something I don't know, why don't ya.

That was then, though. Right now, I was trying to come to grips with the ramifications of my new existence.

"...shit."

The operative word there being 'trying'.

Fucking hell… it's happening. This is really happening.

Discovering that my voice now sounded like a tenor Cindy Robinson did nothing to help how I felt like I was walking around in someone else's skin—which I technically was. For all that my face looked like my previous one, it had enough tiny differences to make it all too obvious that it wasn't the same.

Man, I just… god. Fuck.

One of my hands absently lifted itself up to mess with one of the new additions to my hairstyle, twirling it around and giving it a few tugs. The last yank nearly tore the lock from my head.

That shit's real. It's all real.

The hand dropped to the new curve in my chest, deciding that was to be its next text subject. It gripped, then moved, in all directions. Like with the hair, it pulled, and pulled again. I felt everything.

Flesh. Actual, fucking flesh.

Looking at that hand called my attention to how it seemed just a little smaller, which ended up bringing a number of similarly smaller realizations along with it. Putting aside the new center of gravity, there was much less hair on my body, my bone structure was different… and this wasn't even touching on the extremities. The only thing I could take any sort of solace in was the fact that for all the changes I'd gone through, I didn't feel any taller or shorter.

That shouldn't be me. It can't be me.

But it was.

Because if it is, then...

The bottom of my vision started becoming fuzzy. The eyes of the girl in the mirror had taken on a watery shine at the edges.

Jesus bloody Christ.

I'd always wondered what it would be like to be the protagonist of an isekai story. Whenever I'd entertained the thought, I'd always jokingly hoped that whoever would end up writing it wasn't a quote-unquote 'healing type'.

So of fucking course Murphy's Law dictated that I had to get stuck in one of Gen "Urobutcher" Urobuchi's famous works of suffering. What better way to screw over a hapless nerd who'd never gone through some honest tragedy in his life?

I'm going to die.

I'm going to die.

I'm already dead.

Tears were now streaming down the face of the person staring back at me. But my breathing was stable. I wasn't shaking. No sounds left my mouth.

Wow. I can't even break down right. Piece of shit brain.

The only other thing I had left to offer my reflection was a broken smile.

It took me a while to get myself back in working order again. Being forced to confront the reality of my situation and the fact that the odds were stacked so high against me that my loss might as well have been a foregone conclusion wasn't exactly an easy thing to bounce back from.

But bounce back I did. After all, there was no harm in trying. My death warrant had been signed the moment I was pulled here, so I figured I might as well give it my best shot and see how far I could get. Hell, if I was really lucky, there was a chance I might even survive this mess. Stranger things had happened, right?

And, well, if nothing else, I'd get the chance to treat Kyubey like a stress doll. I had a feeling it'd make for a good one; lots of great grip spots, soft and punchable face, no pesky bleeding if I twisted or pulled too hard… really, the fact that he totally deserved every bit of it was just icing on the cake.

Like, I got it. From a pragmatic perspective, I could understand—and even respect, on some level—the plans their race would enact and the lengths they'd go to in order to stave off the inevitable heat-death of the universe. Under a more ethical lens however, I utterly despised them for the hilariously immoral livestock treatment they were so fond of. Therefore, I would take every last convenient opportunity to disparage, harass, and just generally bully them. I mean, I knew that we kinda did the same for our own livestock, but at least we tried to make it quick and relatively painless, y'know?

Either way, when I stepped out of the bathroom, I went to go get comfortable at the desk in preparation for the mother of all brainstorms. When I did so, I noticed my wallet lying on the wooden structure.

Huh, right, I do get to have that. How much did I have in there again?

I picked up the little leather piece and popped it open, revealing… nothing.

Wait, what the hell?! I thought I had at least- eh?

Well, not quite nothing. There was one singular item still inside. Turning the wallet over, I let it fall into my hand and held it up.

A debit card? I don't recall that being there before.

Flipping the silver piece of laminated plastic over, I found that there was a scrap of paper haphazardly taped onto the back. Scrawled on the scrap was a number and two very simple words.

¥400,000. Have fun.

My eyes flew wide open. "Oh."

A manic, shit-eating grin involuntarily stretched across my face. "Oh."

Unhinged giggles began to spill from my lips. "Oh, hell yes."

Four hundred thousand yen.

Just about four thousand dollars' worth of American moolah.

And it was all. Mine.

The giggles quickly escalated into mad laughter. This was far and away the single highest amount of cash I'd ever had on hand. Enough to fire 12 seconds' worth of ¥200 custom-tooled cartridges from a 10,000 RPM minigun. Totaling about as much as my old life's net worth and then some. It was insane, it was ludicrous, and oh so very promising.

With this, any concerns I may have had about self-sustainability vanished into thin air. Even if I decided not to be frugal—which was unlikely; 'a Scout is thrifty,' after all—this much money could easily last me a few months at the bare minimum. Although, that was assuming that food and other necessities was all I spent it on. Which was a fair assumption, I liked to think. My phone would be enough for all my entertainment needs.

What a sweet summer child I was. Probably came with the territory of being a June baby.

Regardless, I counted myself lucky when I somehow managed to avoid invoking any noise complaints from the neighbors before I got my yuks under control. Having walls not made of cheap drywall probably also had something to do with that, but I digress.

Now that I was done losing my mind over my newfound riches, it was time to get to work. With that in mind, I plopped down into the lone chair, laid my phone on the table, hunched over, and opened up Google Drive.

"Thank whatever gods are out there that they waited until I finished the English dub to dump me here," I muttered. "Now, if I remember correctly, the show goes something like…"

I didn't wake up the following morning in the best of moods. Eight hours of sleep had done nothing to dispel the feeling of frustration I'd gone to bed with last night. The product of coming up with and shooting down dozens upon dozens of ideas for how I could deal with everything that had been dumped at my feet, and ending up with nothing more than laughably simple, basic plans of action. It wasn't much to get worked up over at this point, since I still had about a good week or so to piece together a winning strategy before the plot began in earnest, but it still stressed me out.

Admittedly, as a heavy procrastinator in my old home, this whole experience might as well have been uncharted territory for me. It was the first time in my life that I could remember being upset that I hadn't made more progress on the first day of such a huge project. Then again, this was the first time I'd dealt with a task that had stakes heavily involving my well-being. This wasn't just some test or essay or what-have-you that I could hyperfixate on at the last minute and turn in without further consequences as long as it looked neat. My very life was on the line now. I may have been the farthest thing from confident in my survival, but I also firmly believed that if my death was all but a certainty, then I was gonna make damned sure to drag every last problem I could grab down to hell with me.

Optimistic defeatism, everybody. Pray everything works out, then shrug and flip the bird at the world when it doesn't. And lose. And then die.

...anyway.

"Blehh." I stuck my tongue out, muttering to myself as I headed for the dining room. "Stupid vague timestamps."

Those were going to be an issue. The passage of time over the course of Madoka Magica was something usually left open to speculation and interpretation. With the notable exclusion of two, or technically three points: the start of Homura's loop being the 16th, her first day at school being the 25th, and Sayaka's funeral being held about a month after that. For anything else, though? That was up to the viewers. Sure, you could make educated guesses about when certain events happened relative to each other, to a fairly reliable degree of accuracy, but it varied wildly on a case-by-case basis. Which became a bit of a problem when some of those vaguely-timed events included stuff that I absolutely had to cockblock if I was to have a chance at success.

Like the Charlotte incident, and O.V. Seckendorff's Wild Ride.

Then again, considering that I was going to end up screwing canon sideways anyway, there was a good chance that worrying about event dates past a certain point was just a waste of time. Liberal usage of the butterfly effect was a necessity to accomplish the golden ending of keeping everyone alive. So why bother trying to pinpoint when stuff would happen if it was never given a reason to happen in the first place?

But there's also stuff that'll end up happening regardless of what I do. Like… Kyoko's arrival, I think? And Elly's mass suicide. Hopefully Homura will handle that if Sayaka ends up not contracting. Hitomi doesn't deserve it. Even if she did ruin everything.

Thinking on that while I served myself up some delicious chocolate-chip pancakes brought my mind to a possible solution.

Right… Homura.

Common sense indicated that trying to interact with a ball of pure, concentrated self-hate and fanatical devotion to someone else would be a trip and a half any which way I could think of. The fact that she could stop time on a whim and had enough weapons packed away in her shield's hammerspace to give a Borderlands game a run for its money only made that more egregious.

If I managed to bring her over to my corner, I would effectively gain a reusable delete button for any threats that were beyond my capacity to handle. Which at this point was all of them. But if I didn't—or worse, actively earned her ire—then… well. Calling myself 'totally screwed' would be the understatement of the century.

However, outside the big bad evil witch coming to destroy Mitakihara in around six weeks' time, there wouldn't actually be very many threats for me to sic Homura on in the event that I did successfully pair up with her. The only other witch the show ever portrayed as a serious threat was Charlotte, and that was only because Mami had dropped her guard after getting way too blazed off friendship fumes.

No, martial conflict in the vein of a typical Shonen show wasn't what this series was about. Rather, it was the characters themselves and the issues they carried that drove the plot forward. I took a seat and began shoveling caked sugar down my throat while I gave myself a quick review of the problems I'd have to tackle, in no particular order.

Madoka was heavily predisposed towards contracting with Kyubey due to the deadly combo of her own empathy and a bit of a suspected inferiority complex. While she was the least likely to actually die, for obvious reasons, the act of her becoming a Magical Girl might as well be grounds for a game over because of how Homura would react. The best possible method I could think up to dissuade her from that basically went along the lines of "prove to her that making a contract is the single worst idea she could ever have, and that she can do good regardless of whether or not she has magic." Not a very concrete plan of action, but it would have to do.

Homura herself had the unfortunate tendency to make enemies out of literally everyone she met except Madoka thanks to her almost-stereotypical Dark Magical Girl personality and demeanor. I was likely going to have to put a lot of effort towards convincing the other main characters that she really wasn't as bad as she appeared to be. Her internal issues, on the other hand… well, if the Word of Urobutcher was anything to go by, she'd been building up and internalizing those for more than eleven, maybe even twelve years now, if my math was correct. Those kinds of deep-seated beliefs weren't exactly something I could do anything of substance to in only a month. If I saw a chance to lighten her load a little, I'd take it, but I couldn't expect to actually resolve anything in the little time I had.

Thankfully, that aforementioned fanatical devotion also gave her enough hope juice to keep herself from witching out entirely on her own. As long as nothing happened to damage that, she'd be fine.

The same could not be said for poor Sayaka, however. All her devotion would earn her amounted to a metaphorical slap in the face, being kicked while she was down, and then getting buried alive. Honestly, I couldn't decide if her problems almost exclusively stemming from her connection with Kyosuke was more toxic masculinity or toxic feminism, before I went "fuck it, it's both" and moved on.

Unfortunately, cutting that connection entirely wasn't feasible, so I'd instead have to find a way to mitigate it, or the effects it would have on Sayaka. Nudging her towards making a wish that didn't revolve solely around the boy she couldn't have was a priority there. Outside of that, though, she didn't actually have much to address, besides being a bit of a reckless hothead—and really, would she still be Sayaka if she wasn't charging headfirst at everything?

I did briefly consider the idea of stopping her from making a contract outright, before ultimately discarding it. Walpurgisnacht was not to be taken lightly, especially without a healer, and with my head on the chopping block, I was going to make damn sure to stack the deck against it as much as I could.

Mami was going to be one of the harder challenges, largely owing to her rather poor mental fortitude frayed by years of crippling loneliness. Considering that hiding the truth behind the creation of witches from her was practically impossible due to a great number of uncontrollable factors, it wouldn't be entirely incorrect to call her a walking timed explosive; the detonator of which being the subject of a nail-biting game of hot potato played by all the other main characters. With all but one of them having precisely zero clue as to what they were tossing around.

Disarming that bomb was going to take a hell of a lot of positive reinforcement, and possibly companionship if Madoka didn't naturally fill in for that as per canon… and even if she did, it wouldn't hurt to have a little extra insurance. It seemed like serving up a piping-hot friendship for two was going to be in my future, perhaps with a side of rebuilt relationship for her and a certain redhead if I got lucky.

Speaking of which, Kyoko. Fiery, strong, cynical, and orphaned, nursing a whole load of issues that could mostly be traced back to her father's little murder-tantrum featuring copious amounts of arson, and her subsequent separation from Mami. Pure survival was likely going to be the name of the game here, as I doubted the actions I needed to take would jive all that well with her jaded outlook. In the context of my path to potential victory, she was basically a less game-breaking Homura with the added caveat of being predisposed to beating the crap out of me.

Of course, this was assuming that nothing that could potentially jeopardize her drive to keep living happened, which… actually didn't seem all that likely. I couldn't really think of anything that had much of a chance of piercing her apparent 'I want to survive, so that's what I'll do' mentality. Then again, underestimating Kyubey was a rookie mistake, and I liked to believe I was smarter than that.

Lastly… Kyubey itself. Probably not the root of all evil, but he did a damn good job of being its poster boy, and he worked as a pretty good scapegoat if you needed someone to blame. Like Dinkleberg, only better because it was always justified.

The little white rat was a total wildcard. Its overall goal was a known variable, but trying to predict how it would go about achieving that goal was practically an exercise in futility. So was trying to kill it, much to Homura's dismay. As such, the only way to really fight him was to use his own tactics against him. Any and all meetings with it would be spent trying to do as much damage to its credibility as I could get away with—ideally without sacrificing my own—while giving it as little ammunition to use on me or the others as possible in the process. Far easier said than done, as he had literal millennia of experience in manipulation on his end, but I had to try.

And doesn't that put everything into perspective.

Laying it all out like that just made it all seem exactly as ridiculous as it sounded at first glance. Here I was, an average Joe (or Jane now, I supposed) with foreknowledge and a mostly-complete high school education, going up against a ludicrously oppressive system perpetuated by a bunch of sexist, omnipresent alien cabbits who had been screwing over other races for cheap energy since before the dawn of humanity. While simultaneously trying to keep a group of dysfunctional teenaged girls with magic powers from imploding on themselves. Two of which were liable to splatter me all over the wall if I so much as mildly irritated them.

Good god.

I stared at my now empty plate, smeared with syrup and melted chocolate. Rather similar to my hopes, I found. Lifting my elbows onto the table and resting my face in my palms, I lamented my inevitable fate as one more nameless casualty. "Is this even possible…?"

I managed to get about halfway back to my room before suffering from another stumble. My brain was slowly but surely acclimatizing itself to my new body type and musculature, and was learning how to compensate for my new assets. If I kept going at this pace, I figured I would be back to moving like a natural in just a day or two; perhaps even tomorrow.

"I guess I'm getting the hang of this," I snorted, looking down at my chest. "Shame the only things you're good for are the last things on my mind."

An idea popped back into my thoughts. "...well, except maybe one."

Could I make a contract?

It had come up intermittently over the course of my stay so far. The note had been the first thing to call my attention to it, and my brain had drifted over to it a few times while I'd been throwing up battle plans last night. There was a chance that it was impossible, as I was obviously not of this world, or dimension, or universe or whatever you wanted to call it, and might not have any karmic potential of my own as a result. Because of the note, however, I was relatively certain that regardless of those factors, my becoming a Magical Girl was a viable option.

Which turned the question into something a bit harder to answer.

Should I make a contract?

One wish, no matter the restrictions imposed, and the accompanying superhuman abilities that came with it could go a long way towards ensuring my survival. More than that, it would give me far more chances to actually contribute to the various hurdles everyone would need to overcome to come out the other side of this ordeal safely. Probably not all that much, but it would be better than relying purely on inconsistent NPC plot armor and crapshoot diplomacy to weasel my way out of dangerous situations.

On the flip side, mental breakdowns would suddenly become infinitely more life-threatening than they already were, and I was getting the distinct impression that I hadn't seen the last of them yet. I would also introduce yet another Soul Gem to Mitakihara's existing meguca economy, and just having four was likely already going to strain it to its limits. Bumping that number up to five and maintaining it until Walpers went down would require a do-or-die balancing act of grief management the likes of which even professional tightrope artists couldn't hope to match.

Put simply, it was a gamble. A big one. Not to mention one I'd be largely flying blind on. Would there be enough witches to sustain everyone, me included? Would I end up suffering another traumatic experience that led to a witch-out? Would my wish and everything that came with it give me a high enough power level just to not die against all the monsters and possible rival girls that would want my head on a silver platter?

I had no idea, and that made rolling the dice for it all a lot less appealing.

Then again, however, staying human was just as much of a risk. I'd never heard of a witch that followed the Geneva Conventions, and I doubted the majority of megucas out there gave much of a shit about them either. If I got stuck in a labyrinth, or was hit by a Witch's Kiss or caught up in a fight between anyone, and nobody was around to bail me out, then I was pretty much fucked.

Bloody hell. I'm either a tiny solar panel that gets knocked over by the slightest gust, or a giant rechargeable battery that turns into a black hole if I run out of power.

I tossed the question around my noggin the rest of the way back to my room, coming to a non-conclusion once I walked up to the door.

"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't." I've only been here for like a day, anyway. I'll stick to being squishy for now. If something comes up later that gives me a reason to reconsider, then I'll play ball. But for the moment, my soul's staying right where it is.

Of course, that didn't mean I couldn't start workshopping potential wishes just in case. Better to have and not need and all that.

Satisfied with my course of action, I twisted the knob and pushed the slab of wood open.

'Hello, Audrey Erryn.'

And immediately slammed it shut, flipping around and leaning my back against it as a pair of fingers came up to the bridge of my nose. Another groan came bubbling up my throat.

"You've gotta be shitting me."

Not even twenty-four hours, and this place was already prodding me with a freaking branding iron. I could respect the hustle, but it could at least give me a break that lasted longer than an afternoon, or something. If driving me to insanity was indeed what it wanted—and I was starting to think it was—then it was doing a fantastic job so far.

Sighing, I moved the fingers to my temples. "A Scout is kind."

Hah, no.

"Friendly."

Out of the question.

"...courteous."

That was workable.

I turned around and opened the door again. Sliding inside the room, I nudged it closed before directing my attention to the little blob of white and red currently taking up space on top of the desk.

"Hi, Coobers." I didn't know if my eyes could look any emptier than they were right now. "You mind telling me how the hell you got in here?"

The oversized rat flicked its poofy tail over to the side. 'The window was open.'

I looked in the direction it was pointing in, and discovered that I had in fact left the window open when I left to get breakfast. 'Studies show that opening windows before leaving a residence leads to a significant increase in insect and vermin presence,' the thing added. 'Should you be averse to such circumstances, I would recommend leaving them closed.'

...well shit, dude, just call me an idiot. Would save us both the trouble of playing this stupid game.

Blinking, I slowly turned my head back to the incubator. "Is… this you trying to be considerate?"

'If you interpret my informing you of the facts as being considerate, then yes, I am.' Those beady eyes seemed like they were trying to pick me apart. 'Why do you ask?'

"Eh, no reason," I slid off, dumping myself into the solitary chair at the desk. "Doesn't really surprise me, now that I think about it."

Kyubey finally blinked. It probably said something that it only made him more unsettling. 'I must say, Miss Erryn, you are quite the oddity. You know my name, and apparently what I do to a degree, yet I have no record of ever interacting with you or the people that you allegedly know.' Bloody hell, was this what getting psychoanalyzed by Hannibal felt like? 'Not just that, but I have found little to no evidence of your existence whatsoever within your species' information channels. Combined with your residual energy signature and your strange karmic potential, it's almost as if you simply didn't exist in this world until recently.'

You can bet that last sentence caught my attention like a strobe flash at midnight. "My what energy signature?"

'Approximately 22 hours ago,' he began, 'my associates and I detected an immense surge of energy localized next to this city's general hospital. Thankfully, this specific energy type is entirely invisible to conventional human instruments, so we were able to avoid any potential mass panics.'

Weird, but then again, whoever sent me here probably had to do more than just prep a teleport and snap their fingers. I couldn't imagine breaking the barrier between dimensions being as easy as stepping through an open doorway, if such a barrier existed.

'After I confirmed its location, I picked up a trail leading away from the site, and tracked it down to this room. That's when I discovered you, carrying trace amounts of energy matching the same signature.'

That answered that question, at least. "And my karmic potential? What's so strange about it?"

It seemed to silently consider the question for a moment, which probably spoke to the kind of processing power it needed to produce an output for it. 'To put it in terms you can understand, it feels artificial. Like some sort of higher being simply created it from nothing and implanted it into you through a form of higher-dimensional surgery, as opposed to you possessing it from birth.' It briefly went quiet again, thinking further on the matter. 'Perhaps that might explain the energy surge. Some sort of process of manufacturing karmic potential would likely require massive amounts of power to even be considered feasible, let alone possess enough material to produce as much as you contain.'

"How much do I contain?" He was about to respond before I realized that such a question wouldn't have an answer I could easily parse into usable information. "No, wait, scratch that. How much do I have compared to the average girl you'd consider contracting?"

'According to my measurements…' I wasn't sure if it was pausing to compute or just for dramatic effect, but the wait was unbearable either way. 'You are slightly above the norm compared to most girls. Not by much, but enough to be noteworthy.'

My head slipped into my hand, and a noise of discontent left my lips.

Because of fucking course it wouldn't be that easy. No Deus Ex Wishina for me, then.

There went that plan. Not that I had much hope for it in the first place, but still, ouch.

While we were on the subject, though, I figured I might as well be upfront. "I know what you're going to say next, so before you ask, my answer is no. Or at least not now."

'So you would be open to it in the future?'

"Maybe. Maybe not."

The rat tilted its head in what was probably an attempt at showing curiosity. 'Might there be anything I can do to change that?'

"Nice try." I shot him down with a humorless smirk. "But I'm not willing to deal with you just yet." I had a whole week to scope things out and get a feel for everything before the ball started rolling. He could wait.

"However…" I mused as another idea popped into my head. "Say, for a moment, that I was open to such a thing. What would you be willing to do to sway me over to taking your offer?"

It took a moment to 'think.' 'I could supply you with some tools to assist in your ventures. For example, from what little information I was able to obtain on you, I've determined that the probability of you having the ability to speak fluently in Japanese is quite low.'

"For your information," I cut in with a slightly peeved look, "I do know some of the basics." The annoyance quickly turned into resignation. "But yeah, fluency's outta my reach at the moment. Go on."

'As I was saying, I could provide you with a translator to solve that issue.' The tail waved around again, and I couldn't help but feel like it had done so in that exact same pattern a minute ago. 'With my expansive database on your race's many languages and the resources I have available, synthesizing such a device would be virtually effortless.'

A hand came up to clasp my chin, vibrating with the contemplative hum emanating from my voicebox. "That does sound pretty handy. I've heard that your comprehension tends to skyrocket when you're forced to deal with daily sink-or-swim situations, but I'd really rather not risk running into any problems I can avoid." Tearing down the language barrier between me and my charges would be a critical step forward, and I was under no illusions that I wouldn't need every little bit of help I could get.

I despised the little shit on principle, but letting my personal feelings get in the way of making choices that helped me survive was the exact same mistake that would get three of the five girls killed in this loop if I did nothing. If Kyubey could indeed be of use to my cause, then I'd be a fool not to take advantage of what he could offer me.

I guess I'll be doing business with him sooner rather than later.

It helped that it was eager. 'Would you like to commission me?'

"Didn't I just tell you this was all a hypothetical situation?" On second thought, eagerness wasn't so appealing when it turned into being pushy. "Swear to god, you incubators have no chill."

'My apologies,' he backpedaled. 'I simply saw no reason to wait when you would clearly benefit from the fruits of such an arrangement as soon as it was finalized.'

"And you'd be willing to make a one-sided deal like that?"

It moved like it was raising an eyebrow. 'Am I not allowed to be altruistic?'

It took a moment for me to register what he'd just said, and another for me to confirm that yes, he did just say what I thought he did. Once I did, a wheeze of titanic proportions left my lips, followed by a few barrels of incredulous laughter. I could do no less in response to such a notion.

"Oh– oh man–" I got out once I calmed down, "you're a riot, Coobs."

It said nothing, which I took as a signal to elaborate. "I mean, really. Imagine you, out of all the creatures in the universe, sincerely asking if you're not allowed to be altruistic, after everything you've done."

'What do you mean by that?'

"You know damn well what I mean, you mass-murdering sack of crap. I don't give two shits about how you try to justify it—what you're doing is wrong on so many levels that it's quite literally impossible for me to wrap my head around all of it. And for what?" My voice began to unconsciously raise in volume. "All you're doing is staving off heat death just so you can have more time to find a solution for a problem that doesn't have one! There's no point! You're throwing countless innocent lives away for nothing!"

He just kept staring at me with those glassy eye-cameras of his, completely unfazed by my little outburst. It took a little while before I heard its voice in my mind again. 'We are well aware of the costs our methods impose on the species we harvest energy from, Miss Erryn. Believe me when I say that if there was a way to avoid such steep sacrifices without compromising our rate of production, we would take it.'

He closed his eyes and dipped his head a tiny bit. As if the fucker had it in him to be sorry for anything. 'Sadly, we have discovered no such thing as of yet. As it stands, harnessing the extreme power young human girls release through their transformation from Magical Girls to Witches remains the most efficient method to combat entropy.' The thing stood, trotting away to the edge of the desk. 'We understand better than most that the situation is nowhere near ideal. Despite our best efforts, a solution to the problem of entropy has not been revealed. The universe is still slowly dying.'

Its head tilted back, fixing me with a different stare that almost felt like it had some kind of spark behind it. 'But we cannot accept that. For the sake of the future of all species living within it, the universe must survive. To struggle and evolve for so long, only for it all to go to waste in the end is a fate that absolutely cannot be allowed to come to pass, under any circumstances.' The drone turned towards me fully, as if issuing a challenge. 'We will not give up. We will find a solution to entropy. We will secure the future of the universe, and all life within it. And if we must harvest the few to ensure that the needs of the many are ultimately met…' For a moment, I got the impression that I wasn't looking at just Kyubey; rather, I was getting a glimpse at something else entirely. 'Then that is exactly what we will do.'

I had been expecting many things when I'd gotten a little heated. Getting an entire speech-rant on the motives of my new worst enemy-slash-begrudging partner that sounded almost legitimately passionate had been pretty far down the list. But he didn't need to know that.

"And if it turns out that I'm right, and there is no way to stop it for good?" I leaned back and folded my arms. "What then?"

'We will leave answering that question to such a time when doing so is necessary.'

My glare went flat. "I'll be dead by then. So will everyone else who might've cared about it. They'll all be dead. If you don't kill them, old age will."

'Then I suppose you will just have to discover a method to gain immortality.' I could've sworn that painted-on smile of his got a little cheekier. 'May I suggest a wish?'

I flipped it the bird. "Kindly go die in a labyrinth."

'That would be a waste of resources.'

"You're already a waste of resources. Fuck off." My brain then decided to remind me of an old article I'd read a while back. "Oh, and just so you know, you fail physics forever."

He had no eyebrows to quirk up, but quirk them up he did. 'On what basis?'

"Did you guys never figure out the first law of thermodynamics?" It would only occur to me afterwards that accusing the dick who wielded information like a BFG of being misinformed had a very good chance at doing nothing but make me look like an idiot. "Y'know, the rule stating that energy can never be created or destroyed, just changed? Which kinda-sorta makes your whole energy-collecting shtick a fat load of bullshit?"

'That law only applies within a closed system,' it countered. 'And your own existence here, if it is indeed what I suspect it to be, may provide evidence that our universe is not as closed a system as you may believe.'

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

Fuck. He's got me there.

I tried again. "What about the second law?"

'Rendered moot by the violation of the first law.'

Something twitched. "Do you know how much I want to stab you in the eye right now? Because I really want to stab you in the eye right now."

'Please do not do that.'

More noises of discontent escaped my throat as I slouched further into my seat, already wondering how much longer I could take this before I lost it. Kyubey didn't seem done for today quite yet, as he began talking about things that I found myself paying less and less attention to.

Five minutes of not-listening gave me a nasty idea.

Ten minutes had me leaving the room and asking the incubator to come along.

Fifteen minutes saw me leaving its corpse in the alleyway next to the hotel, a stolen dinner knife sticking out of its left socket.

Twenty minutes led to me screaming in frustration when I returned and found another one sitting on my desk, which then continued right where its fallen sibling had left off.

Thirty minutes resulted in a louder scream of frustration when asking him to get the fuck out ended with him doing exactly that, whereupon I came to the realization that I could have done so at any time prior to that moment.

My sanity would be lucky to make it to June.

A/N: Heeeeeeere's COOBIE!

Before you ask—yes, Audrey's inconsistent use of pronouns when referring to Kyubey is intentional. I may or may not bring this up in-universe at a later date to explain why. But part of it is because incubators don't actually have a gender that I'm aware of. Technically Kyubey should be referred to as an 'it' or 'them,' but most characters typically refer to Kyubey as a 'he' solely because the Japanese pronoun they use is masculine, for… some reason. Maybe to keep in line with the trend of most typical Magical Girl mascots being male to contrast the female-dominant cast? I dunno. And something tells me that neither does Urobuchi.

Kyubey's whole motive rant there was admittedly a spur-of-the-moment decision and probably just a smidge OOC (though you'll have to be the judge of that), but I'm actually pretty satisfied with how it turned out. I like the idea of giving him his own, twisted version of the same thing that Magical Girls live off of. I mean, all the incubators are really doing is trying to make the best out of what they perceive to be a bad situation. People can feel free to hate them all they want for the moral atrocities they commit to do so, but on a pragmatic level, their logic is relatively solid.

Anyway, these earlier chapters are mostly going to serve as setup. Traditional 'action scenes' won't be making an appearance until a little bit later; for the most part, it'll be Audrey coming to grips with her new circumstances and settling into her role. We've already gotten a fair dosage of internal suffering, but that's not everything this story has to offer, so keep an eye out for when that suffering starts taking more tangible forms. Which will be soon. Very soon. But not that soon.

Byeee.