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When she opened the bell tower door Kyoko narrowly avoided breaking her nose for the third time in the last twenty four hours. On a normal day she would have dodged the plate flung at her head without blinking, but with her body slowed by her injuries and more than a little on her mind, she barely got out of the way in time. The plate sailed through the open door and smashed to pieces on the flagstones of the church hall.
She was less successful with avoiding the half-eaten curry which had followed it like the tail of a comet. She grimaced as she looked down at the growing brown stain on her green hoodie from what had seconds before been Kyosuke's dinner. A potato slid off her shoulder, landing on the floor with a gloop.
Kyosuke was stood across from her, panting heavily, his eyes a mix of fear and righteous anger. It reminded Kyoko strangely of Sayaka, especially the strong urge she felt to smack him.
You little shit, I liked that hoodie. Kyoko took a deep breath, slowly counting to ten. When she finished she was still angry, but at least she no longer felt like dropping Kyosuke from the top of the church steeple.
"Don't waste food," she growled.
"I'm not hungry."
Kyoko snorted. "You've never been hungry."
"Don't you dare talk to me like that! You don't have the right to lecture anyone on anything after what you did, you monster!" Kyosuke snarled.
"What's wrong? Are you still sore I broke your violin, princess?"
Kyosuke was so angry his face went past red back to white, the colour draining from his already pale cheeks. His locked expression looked like it had been carved from marble; a perfectly captured cast of utter hatred.
"No," said Kyosuke.
"Hoh, so you are angry about Sayaka then?" said Kyoko.
"If she dies, I'll kill you."
it was sincerely said, but Kyoko had more than a little trouble taking Kyosuke seriously. "Really, sunshine, and how the fuck do you imagine yer gonna accomplish that? Jesus, what is it with you people and empty threats? I'll confess though, I've got enough to worry about at the moment, so if it'll forestall you're righteous vengeance" – Kyoko snickered – "I'll take the load off your mind, there's no way that stubborn girl will die from the little scuffle we had last night."
"I told you not to treat me like a moron," Kyosuke said. There was no trace of the arrogance which had infuriated her so much when she'd first spoken to him, only the beginning of a sob. "I saw the state she was in, I watched what you did to her, and now you're just going to tell me she's fine?"
"Look, moron, even you must have noticed there was something the tiniest bit odd about last night's fight? Y'know, like the costumes, the super strength, the glowing swords materialising from thin air? A bit out of the ordinary, right?"
Kyosuke nodded.
"Given that, is it so hard to have a little faith when I tell you Sayaka's fine? Hell, she's probably up and bitching about justice and honour or some shit right like that."
"She's okay then...she's really okay?"
This time Kyoko had difficulty responding. The whole talk had taken a turn for the bizarre. Here the boy was, desperately seeking reassurance from her of all people. What was even stranger was how she felt. She knew - without a doubt - she hated Kamijo Kyosuke, but she still wanted to reassure him, to tell him Sayaka was fine, that he had nothing to worry about.
Seeking to distract herself she took off her soiled hoodie, taking momentary comfort in her small irritation as she examined the large stain running down the left-hand side.
She slung the garment over her shoulder. "Yeah, she's okay."
Kyosuke's put a hand over his face, collapsing against the wall to keep himself upright. The peace did not last long. The hand lowered and he continued to glare at Kyoko.
"All this – I don't know – magic, were you the one who got Sayaka mixed up in this mess?"
"Oi. Why the hell do you think that's my fault? That was Kyu-" Kyoko stopped herself just in time. "Whatever. It wasn't me, all right? I'm not responsible for that idiot having all the foresight of a drunk lemming. It was always Sayaka's choice, right from the start."
"Then, why?" Kyosuke demanded.
Their conversation had already been heading into unwelcome territory, but Kyoko decided it really was time to put a stop to things. "I never realised you cared so much about Sayaka, Kamijo-kun. How touching."
The taunt worked. "What do you think you know about me!?" Kyosuke yelled at her. Kyoko looked down curiously at her black tank-top where Kyosuke had grabbed her. She almost thought he was about to try and hit her again, but it seemed, furious as he was, Kyosuke was not yet suicidal. It didn't stop him from yelling though, his words as angry and ugly as the purple bruise on his neck.
"You keep telling me I don't care about Sayaka. Well, to hell with you! She's my best bloody friend, and I'm going to keep caring about her whether you like it or not, you vicious, heartless bitch." Kyosuke stopped a moment for breathe, caught sight of Kyoko's expression, then, having clearly decided he was doomed regardless, carried on ranting. "And what was all that rubbish you were sprouting earlier about me causing her pain? I'm not like you. I'd never do anything to hurt her!"
Kyoko knew she shouldn't have laughed, should have just let the brat rant and then walked away, but she couldn't help herself. It was too much. "You haven't hurt her? Is that what you think?"
Kyosuke couldn't meet her eyes. He looked at the floor "Maybe I have, there's a lot I need to apologise for, but not nearly as badly as you."
"Really?" asked Kyoko, sarcastically. "Let me ask you the same question, you little shit, what the hell do you think you know, eh?"
"Do you think I'm going to fall for any more of your lies?" Kyosuke said quietly, his tone wavering.
Kyoko shoved him and he fell in a heap of dust on the floor. She spread her arms wide and forced a smile. "Ah, you got me. Looks like you're finally catching on. Well, its been real, but I've got places to be. Don't you go anywhere," she finished in a mocking sing-song.
"Wait," Kyosuke called out, picking himself up from the floor.
Kyoko stopped at the door. "I hope you're not gonna ask for seconds, cause that ain't happening."
Kyosuke bit his lip, a question clearly hovering on the edge of his tongue, but his words never touched the air. He turned his head aside, taken a sudden interest in a patch of mould on the wall. "Nothing."
Kyoko thought about saying something, but her brain finally caught up with her mouth; she wouldn't have a better chance to leave. She slammed the door behind her and turned the key into the old, weary lock. Then she walked away, leaving Kyosuke once more to the darkness.
Kyoko stomped through the night, her boots pounding the pavement with such force it was as if she were trying to churn the concrete beneath her feet back to dust and slurry.
She was thinking again, she'd found herself doing rather too much of that lately. It was funny how life worked sometimes. At the beginning, when her plan had more than a little potential to go disastrously wrong she'd been unshakable. Now she had tasted success all she could feel was fear. Hope truly was the worst poison.
Kyoko snorted - or maybe she just the kind of girl who preferred action to hanging around and naval gazing. Unfortunately the plan required she wait – a skill which had not come gracefully to the red-haired girl - while Akemi whipped Sayaka into shape for their rematch. Her legs ached as she walked, it probably would have been more sensible for her to stay inside until she was at least halfway recovered, but the coffers of Kyoko's carefully accumulated patience werel modest at best and no small amount had been drawn today. So she walked and – frustratingly to Kyoko – she thought.
The evening was young, the sun had only set an hour before, and the street lights were transitioning from dull orange to bright white. She passed a crowd pouring out of the train station; a suited, briefcase-carrying, amorphous mass returning from a long day at the office. Most of them ignored her, studiously avoided eye contact with the delinquent looking girl storming through with a face like thunder.
Empty puppets, every single fucking one of 'em, Kyoko thought with contempt. The same weak, fickle puppets who'd first ignored her father and then flocked to his sermons at a whisper from Kyubey. No wonder Sayaka was going insane risking her life trying to protect these people. The girl may have been utter fool, but deep down Kyoko was sure she knew she was more alive than a single one of the the grey, blank faced husks passing Kyoko by without a sideways glance.
What bleak bitterness must have festered inside Sayaka, to give up everything in service of a bunch like that. Kyoko could imagine it all to well. If the only the inflexible girl had the sense to admit to the naivety of her ideals and stopped trying to be perfect, none of them would be taking part in this ridiculous farce in the first place. Instead, Sayaka was happy to let her stubbornness take her to an early grave.
Kyoko caught the eye of a young girl, maybe five or six, smiling happily as she walked hand in hand with her father, her other hand clutching a stuffed toy tiger, and Kyoko felt a dull, familiar ache in her chest. The girl noticed her staring and her smile disappeared; she put on the same blank mask as the rest of crowd and huddled behind her father's legs. The father seemed to notice Kyoko's staring and glared at the red-head suspiciously.
"'m sorry," Kyoko mumbled, pushing her way through the crowd and away from painfully happy memories of another life.
The crowd thinned and after putting some distance from the station Kyoko claimed back a comfortable degree of solitude. There were still people around, her gaze flickered to a couple on the other side of the road, but few enough so she wasn't feeling actively murderous.
The street lights were bright, illuminating the row of closed shops stretched before her. She stopped, catching her reflection in a tinted window and smiled ironically. Empty puppets, every single fucking one of us.
She walked on quickly, her reflection accompanying her. The problem was people weren't quite that simple, were they? She thought she despised people for their masks, but what was a person but the sum of the different faces they put on in a day. A face for work, a face for friends, a face for family... Were all of them fake or none of them? Kyoko remembered the kind, optimistic girl she used to be and the cruel, cynical mask she'd picked up to keep herself alive after her family's destruction. It had been so very long ago, she was no longer sure which of the two was the "real" her. Then there was the mask she wore in front of Sayaka and the Kamijo brat. She'd intended it to be a complete fabrication, but the fury which fuelled her creation was dangerously genuine.
What about the masks she'd given other people? That was the truth of the matter when you came down to it: She wasn't surrounded by puppets, she'd made them that way herself, first as innocent victims waiting to be saved from the witches or toys to dance at her father's circus, and then as uncaring and cold to justify her own self-righteous misanthropy.
It had made her current plan easier too. Kyoko still had enough tattered scraps left in her conscience to catch a guilty surge at the thought of manipulating people, but she had no qualms about pulling on the strings of puppets. The half-broken cherub head leered in her mind and she smiled grimly in response. There was another difference from the faithful Kyoko of yesteryear, at least she didn't lie to herself about what she was doing; Kyoko considered her innocence a fair trade for control. She would beat Kyubey at his own game.
For Kamijo she'd painted a particularly crude picture. It was simpler, being angry. Anger was an old friend which kept her warm and alive on the cold nights. When they'd first spoken Kyosuke had been everything she'd thought he'd be, everything she'd wanted him to be: Foppish, pretentious, arrogant and selfish. It had been easy to hate him then, even too easy as the bruises on the brat's neck testified. It felt good to finally have someone to blame. Kyoko had held him responsible for Sayaka's sorry state and so in the same breath could also hold him responsible for the fucked up situation they'd all found themselves entangled in.
But lately he'd gone completely off-script. She remembered his anger at her over Sayaka, the concern and relief in his eyes when he'd learned she was safe, the way he'd flung herself at her with no thought at all of his own safety to try and save his friend's life. Her gut twisted at every memory.
He was getting inquisitive too. Kyoko knew she was wholly to blame. If she wanted him to remain ignorant she shouldn't have thrown all those accusations at him, some of them had clearly stuck. However cathartic it may have been it would have to stop, she promised to herself. She would ensure he learned nothing further.
In the beginning part of her wanted to tell him the truth. She'd held a small fantasy where she revealed why Sayaka had become a magical girl – what wish she'd sacrificed herself for - and Kamijo in turn would toss his pretty locks and coldly state it was only natural a foolish, worthless girl like Sayaka should nail herself to the cross for a prodigy like him.
Currently though, she had a sneaking suspicion he'd have to gall to act upset. Almost like he dared to be an actual human being rather than the shallow, vain puppet she'd constructed in her head. Maybe it would be better not just to avoid answering his questions, but stay clear of speaking to him at all.
She'd given a mask to Sayaka too, she realised belatedly. That was where her old, kind self had gone in the end, passed on like a hand-me-down to the younger generation now she no longer had any use for it. Little wonder she'd tried so hard to smash that mask into pieces...or why she was now trying to hard to glue those pieces together. But it was too late, wasn't it...
She stopped walking. "Jesus, get your shit together, Kyoko," she whispered to herself, "You'll have plenty of time to mope about how crap your life is once you've saved Sayaka."
A cold wind blew and Kyoko shivered, she'd left her hoodie back in the church. The chill was at odds with the warm, technicoloured light and cheerful jingles which engulfed the girl. She saw her feet had brought her to the arcade. The lurid, neon sign beckoned her inside.
Why the hell not, thought Kyoko. A noisy, meaningless distraction was just what she needed.
"Sakura-san?"
Kyoko stumbled on the last beat of the song, missing the perfect score she had been seconds away from achieving. Not even bothering to stay and tap in her initials on the high-score table, she leapt off the DDR machine to face whoever had called out her name.
It was Kaname Madoka. And she'd brought a friend. Both of them looked exhausted, their faces pinched and drawn.
Recognition dawned, it was the green-haired chick Kamijo was dating. "Sweet tits?" Kyoko said, under her breath.
Hitomi's head snapped up, the sharp moment not matching the dullness in her green eyes. Kyoko cursed internally when she realised she hadn't spoken as quietly as she thought.
"What did you just say?" The green haired girl asked fuzzily, as if she'd just been woken from a dream.
Kyoko laughed heartily, injecting an embarrassing level of false cheer into her voice. "I said, 'Sweet', 'cause its been such a long time since I've seen my good friend Madoka." She wrapped a companionable arm around the pinkette.
"You're friends with Madoka?" repeated Hitomi. The girl seemed to be having problems concentrating, her focus wandering wearily between Kyoko, Madoko and for a while just staring blankly into nothing.
"The best! Ain't that right, Madoka?"
Kyoko and Madoka were pressed cheek to cheek and Kyoko could clearly see the tired shadows under her eyes and the flower patterned bandage on her nose, which caused another swell of guilt. Madoka untangled herself from Kyoko, her brow and thin eyebrows wrinkled in a slight frown.
"Yes," Madoka said, resolutely. "Kyoko is my friend."
Hitomi wasn't the only one who was surprised at her statement. Madoka just didn't have it in her to lie. It was another reason Kyoko had found herself growing fond of the girl. For all Kyoko's musings about masks, there really were people like Madoka who wore their heart on their sleeves. What you saw was what you got, but you had to stand back pretty damn far to take in all of Kaname Madoka.
"So, what are you guys doing here?" Kyoko asked.
"We're..." Hitomi stopped like she really had forgotten why they were there. "We're looking for another friend of ours."
"Meeting up at the arcade at this time of night?" Kyoko joked. "Going through your rebellious phase?"
"Its Sayaka-chan," Madoka said quietly. "She used to come here a lot to play, especially when she'd had a bad day. I thought we might be able to find her here."
"Oh," said Kyoko, losing all of her conjured good humour.
"You're friends with Sayaka-chan as well, Sakura-san?" Hitomi dashed forward, grabbing Kyoko's hands, all of her previous lethargy banished. Kyoko's winced, for such a delicate looking girl, Hitomi's fingers were digging into Kyoko's flesh with surprising strength. "We've been searching for her for days. We tried everybody else: Sayaka-chan's mum and dad, the police, everyone at school, but I didn't know she had other friends too. You must know where she is," Hitomi stated desperately. "Please, you have to tell us. If anything's happened to her, I don't know what I'll...I don't know...I don't know what to do..."
It was a sentiment Kyoko shared as she stared down at the sobbing girl and found for the first time in a long time she was completely lost for words. Luckily as Hitomi tailed off Madoka stepped forward, the pinkette clutched at her friends shaking shoulder, gently pulling her away from Kyoko and into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her friend.
"It's all my fault," Hitomi said horsely. "I shouldn't have pushed her so hard. I knew how much Sayaka-chan loved Kyosuke, but I had to be selfish, and now they're both gone..."
Kyoko could see Madoka was clearly close to tears herself, but her brow was still set in that little determined frown as she held on to her weeping friend.
"No," said Madoka soothingly, stroking Hitomi's green hair like she were comforting a child. "Its not your fault. Its not your fault at all, Hitomi-chan."
Some of the other customers began to stare. Kyoko glared at them, and when that didn't deter them, calmly flipped off a particularly nosy looking older man. She heard a few sharp gasps and the middle-aged man huffed in distaste, muttering to himself about the sorry state Japan was coming too, but it worked and he and the others turned away.
Eventually the two girls parted, though Madoka kept hold of Hitomi's hand.
"Its getting late now, Hitomi-chan, we should head back too or our parents are going to start worrying."
Hitomi nodded, wiping the tears out of her eyes.
"Can you wait for me by the entrance, I just need to ask Sakura-san a couple of questions." Hitomi's eyes were still watery, but the doubt in them was crystal clear. "Please, Hitomi-chan," Madoka said, and her voice had an edge to it that Kyoko hadn't heard before.
Hitomi nodded, gave Madoka's hand a last squeeze, and then waved a lacklustre goodbye. Madoka returned the wave just as weakly. Kyoko was about to address Madoka, but saw she was still watching Hitomi slowly walk away, looking as fragile and stricken as an autumn leaf.
When she turned to face Kyoko she wasn't crying, but there were four red marks on each of her palms where her nails had almost torn through her skin. "Sakura-san-" Madoka begun.
Kyoko held up a hand to stop her. "We're way past formalities at this point, don't ya think, Madoka? Its Kyoko."
Madoka nodded. "Okay, Kyoko," she gave a ghost of a smile, but her eyes remained unusually serious. "Kyubey told me everything, we need to talk."
And that's the end of that chapter, a more reflective take on events by Kyoko now the dust has settled.
As always, reviews are the lifeblood I prey upon, so please comment and let me know what you think :)