Note [7/18/15]: chapter nine, polished. Now, onwards!
Interlude
"ALL CITIZENS PLEASE REPORT TO THE NEAREST SHELTER. IF YOU HAVE NOT YET EVACUATED, PLEASE DO SO IMMEDIATELY."
Only a few stragglers and the city authorities remained at the moment. Everyone else had taken refuge at one of the two shelters. God willing, they would live through the passing supercell.
He ducked into an alley to avoid a passing police cruiser. Its lights still shone brightly in the encroaching gloom; he could not be caught.
No, he would not leave until he discovered what the strange apparition was.
Maybe, at long last, he had found his calling—perhaps literally.
Cold tendrils of fog began to obscure everything. It made his wool sweater clammy, condensation clinging to him—his shivering was certainly not because of the icy dampness. Something told him that it not only marked the upcoming storm, but also the onslaught of… something.
It came from somewhere down south.
But the farther he went the more he doubted himself.
Even before the fog had rolled in, the dark clouds above had cast a deep shadow over everything; surely the translucent little carnival figure he had seen had been a trick of the shadows, of refracting light.
The forecasted wind and rain had not arrived yet. He could make it to a shelter if he turned back now.
Still, he had to decide. Should he continue?
He could barely see ten feet in front of him, his clothes were definitely soaked, and the actual storm would likely hit soon.
All he had to show for coming out here was a dubious glimpse and fog that felt like a dementor's.
Stupid Evan, running off because of a "hunch" and risking his own life on top of that.
He sighed. Leaning against an abandoned building, he tugged at the bracelet on his left wrist, running his fingers over the saints painted on the beads.
I am not to call myself "stupid" and I am not to dismiss the curiosity and instincts with which the Lord has blessed me.
He repeated the mantra silently a few more times before letting his arms fall limply beside him.
A bell rung dolefully, muffled but strangely amplified by the fog.
Barely one o' clock, yet the sky was completely overcast.
Well, he would go through with it.
God willing, this will be the day, he reassured himself.
His eyes remained focused even as his limbs moved ponderously—very much like the dementors he had read about in Harry Potter. It could not be a mere figment of his imagination, for he had a naturally happy disposition despite the occasional bout of self-deprecation.
So he slogged on, not knowing exactly where he went but certain that he would find something eventually.
'Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back' is as good a motto as any.
Evan clutched a rosary as he peered about the empty streets. Sometimes he thought he saw a flicker of color in the corner of his eye, but when he focused on it—nothing.
A vague sensation prickled at his scalp, encouraging him even as it sapped at his energy and frightened him.
There had to be something causing the disturbance that he felt. He might not be a holy monk or priestess, but he was no layman. Call it a… sixth sense, or brush it off as the silly dreams of an orphan, but he knew he had spiritual power.
He shrieked when something brushed against his leg.
Meowing, the little black cat batted at his pants.
He crouched down, extending a hand to the feline as he caught his breath. It sniffed his fingers, tail twitching, and regarded him with yellow eyes. He murmured, "What are you doing here, kitty?"
A black cat has crossed my path; am I superstitious?
The cat batted again at his right leg. He shook his head.
"You can come with me," he told it, "but I don't know where we're going—or if we'll return. Let us trust in the Lord."
When he made to stand back up, he found that it took significantly more effort than it should have.
One last chance, Evan. You can still turn back.
He did not.
He had passed the center of Mitakihara a few minutes ago—minutes that felt awfully long.
Sporadic glimpses of color lasted longer, sluggishness gripped his entire body, but his ears ringed with… something. He could not give up, not yet. He had to… keep going. Keep going, keep going, keep going—
His shoes squelched; water ran down from somewhere up ahead. His knees creaked as if he was arthritic. Thoroughly chilled, he wondered if he could get frostbite like this. The cat, on the other hand, did not seem to mind the wet conditions or have the same difficulty moving that Evan did.
I hope don't get pneumonia, or frostbite, or influenza, or…
Another meow refocused him. The cat looked up at him, then padded down a side street.
Eh, might as well follow her. It's not like I actually know what I'm doing, and look—she's waiting for me.
Judging distance was nearly impossible, for the fog warped his sense of depth. At least he could still see the cat, whose tail flicked impatiently.
"Hold up, kitty. Something's weighing me down," he mumbled.
They went forward. He felt light-headed, and the darkened streets seemed to harbor something ominous.
Something. When will I have a name for this "something"?
Up ahead was nothing but fog, behind him was more fog, and even above him the fog permeated everything. It clouded his thoughts. He could barely distinguish the outlines of the buildings. Their slow-moving pace kept him from crashing into anything.
Catching another glimpse of color, he eagerly turned towards it; this time, the ribbon did not disappear immediately.
Subconsciously, his trembling hand reached out.
It winked out of existence, but the cat hissed at squares of… confetti? that fluttered near his feet. Then they, too, flickered away.
Bristling, the cat continued to whence the ephemeral hints came.
He clutched his rosary more tightly. He could feel the negative energy polluting the air and sapping his resolve. He definitely neared to the source.
"Something sinister walks the Earth," he whispered.
When he saw the strange little clown-doll scurrying past him, he stopped.
His wide eyes stared at the creature.
Hardly taller than the cat spitting at it, the apparition looked like it belonged on the shelf of some carnival-themed toy house. It quickly disappeared into the gloom. As brightly-colored and playful as it seemed, however, the miserable atmosphere had intensified.
From there, it escalated gradually. More little creatures ran past him, and then the ribbons of light became banners. They neared the southern end of Mitakihara—had they passed by the institution yet?
His chest felt tight; the tightening in the back of his throat suggested that he was about to cry. Why did he feel so sad? These tears that prickled in his eyes….
Evan lurched to a stop when an elephant lumbered towards him. Utterly frozen, he could only gape at it.
Pinpricks of pain flared up one of his legs, making him jerk and stumble sideways against a wall. The cat yowled as the green specter trumpeted. The noise rang in his ears; he cowered away from the malevolence that oozed from the bizarre thing.
His legs gave out, but his numb body jerked again when the ice-cold water stung his palms. Scrambling up, his heart drumming and knees smarting, he backed away from the lumbering apparition.
It did not, however, fade or scamper away as the previous ones had. Instead, its decorated head turned, tassels swinging as the elephant kept him in sight. It stepped closer to him. The yowling of the cat picked up again.
He scrambled back even further. His foot slipped, prompting his arms to pinwheel to keep his balance, but his entire body seized up when he inadvertently brushed against the elephant's extended trunk.
He crashed onto the floor, utterly winded, drowning in the haze that stole all rational thought.
The undertones of despair that had infiltrated the air were now vivid, sentient, actively grasping at him.
Forsaken God—
What a fitting end to someone so useless, no?
Brother Evan, the joke of the orphanage, going after things he can't possibly understand. Lily will be so disappointed, but at least she won't have to worry about her pathetic little brother anymore.
A pathetic little brother, pathetic little brother, pathetic….
Bleary eyes tried to focus as something rough and warm licked his cheek. Little spasms shook him—oh, he was trembling. He felt it but did not feel. That was his body fighting to live, wasn't it?
But even as his body fought, he could feel his chest convulsing and whimpering sobs escaped him.
It was just… this great, self-loathing sadness that crushed his body.
Pathetic little brother, pathetic little orphan, pathetic little Evan, pathetic, pathetic, pathetic fool—
Something trumpeted somewhere.
The cat nipped his face; his eyes fluttered open again in response. She swiped at his chin before leaving his line of sight. Presently, he registered warmth against his left fingers, which still clutched his rosary.
Lord!
His tingling hands could not properly feel the beads, but he tried to run his thumb over them regardless. He took in deep breaths to fight against the suffocating despondency.
I have purpose, I have purpose, I have purpose. By the saints, I won't give in to the servants of evil!
Slowly, as if he were entrenched in a bog, he raised himself to his knees and stood.
"O my Lord, you have me as your faithful servant," he wheezed, moving forward once more.
The cat batted his leg, leading him to add, "Thank you, kitty, for your help."
He cast his eyes about, wary for another botched encounter. Something melancholic continued to throb in his chest. Something sinister continued to stain the air.
Nothing stirred in the abandoned city. He adjusted the rosary on his hand, grimacing at the pain the indents left. It looked like physical pain effectively roused his muddled mind. Unfortunately, the chill gradually deadened his senses.
I'm going to get pneumonia or something, aren't I?
He chanced a glimpse at his watch—barely an hour had passed. Just an hour.
Rain began to fall. One moment, fog languidly meandered around him—the next, sharp needles of rain pelted Mitakihara. He was already cold and soaked, but now the raindrops left icy, stinging pain when they handed on him.
Now what do I do?
'Onward,' the cat seemed to answer as it hit him with its tail. He hunched against the elements and dutifully followed.
Behind the falling rain there seemed to be an echoing something.
Every footstep made a plsh sound.
He was uncomfortable, but the something was so very close.
When he discovered it at last, he did not believe his eyes.
Dear Lord—what have I found?
Many more of the deceptively colorful elephants paced about the dock. Other apparitions cavorted about, including the bunny-clown-like things that had caught his attention in the first place.
In the darkened sky, however, the something he had sought tittered menacingly.
An abomination.
By God's good grace, where am I?
In the midst of a circus, a carnival—in the midst of madness.
Madness, because a trio of girls seemed to be fighting against the atrocity that spread despair, despair so thick it had coated all of Mitakihara even from its position here at the docks.
He could see everything clearly despite the pouring rain.
Despair, hatred, a cacophony of negativity.
He could not understand anything.
Explosions—flashing bursts of light—are those military guns?
He could not hear the—the battle. Shouldn't he hear it despite the thrumming rain?
Anything but that godforsaken laughter.
That empty grin.
Eyes obscured.
Not grotesque like the gargoyles and demons etched on the walls of the orphanage—but damned nonetheless.
I can't be dreaming.
Kneeling, letting the wretched rain soak him with abandon, he lifted his rosary to his freezing lips.
O my Jesus, forgive us of our sins. Save us from the fires of hell. Lead all souls into heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.
He repeated the prayer eight more times, counting a bead for each repetition. His heart raced in his chest, begging him to run, run before it consumes you—
Then, he simply wept and let the blasphemy unfold before him, caught in a nettle of confusion, a haze, and despair, oh how that despair coated his very veins and how he wished he had left well enough alone!
"Are you alright, sir?"
He gasped, heart jolting up into his throat.
Next to him stood a girl in an equally-soaked school uniform. Her pink eyes were also widened in surprise, though there was an undertone of woe evident in her expression and she evidently lacked the daze that gripped his aching head.
"Ah!" He scrambled up—albeit clumsily because of his stiff limbs—realizing she was not an illusion. Then, could she see the abomination taking place above? Could this madness, this madness—
The girl turned to face the spectacle beyond them. "You should be at a shelter, sir," she stated when he took too long to answer.
Evan's shivers grew more pronounced as he thought of the warmth that the shelters no doubt provided.
Still, the Lord had his ways. Everything happened for a reason—for a better world to flourish—even this wickedness had a reason for appearing. He could not in good conscious have gone to a shelter after he had seen. Maybe she had a similar reason?
(Sometimes God took innocents, or the devil corrupted children. He hoped it was neither.)
"Do you know what it is?" he said instead once he collected his scattered thoughts. If only the heaviness in his chest would go away.
Leave me alone. Please. No more.
Wide pink eyes snapped to meet his own. "You can see them?"
He nodded. She stared at him, clearly shocked, but then the—it drew her gaze back. She fidgeted.
Am I dreaming? Please, tell me it's my imagination. That it's only a nightmare.
"I couldn't stay at the shelter knowing that my friends were risking their lives out here, all alone," she confided. She peeked at him briefly before elaborating, "That's Walpurgis, the witch. It's Walpurgisnacht."
That—"A… witch?" Walpurgisnacht. The night of witches.
She nodded, though he could not see her expression. He stared at the 'Walpurgis' instead.
"What about the… girls?" he pried further. They were her friends, she had said?
"My friends," the girl reiterated, a hint of something hard in her voice. "They're fighting Walpurgis to protect the city." Defiance colored her voice, daring him to insult them.
All he could distinguish were red, yellow, and purple blurs intermixed with bursts of fire and smoke. Nonetheless, the trio looked to be attacking the witch. He could believe her, he supposed, on sight alone.
But did he believe what he saw?
It cackled again—he registered something high-pitched, bitter, and menacing assaulting his ears. Both shivered.
If only this were an illusion.
"How can you see them? How did you know to come here?" the girl asked suddenly, frowning perplexedly at him. The more she spoke the more the fog in his head seemed to dissipate.
Shrugging, he said, "One moment… one moment I was leaving with all the other evacuees… then I saw something abnormal, so I followed it.
"Actually," he chuckled nervously, "a cat led me here, but I don't know where she is now…. The rain probably scared her off." He had completely forgotten about the cat. He hoped she was okay. He certainly was not.
He wrapped his arms around himself, grimacing at the saturated clothes clinging to his skin and chilling him.
Pink eyes watched him warily, making no move to acknowledge the abysmal weather. Did she not feel the heaviness it exuded? It dribbled down the sky, a viscous oil, a blemish painted in the colors of Hell.
"I think it's my spiritual power," he admitted at last, cringing away from the girl, "that lets me see… W-Walpurgis. The city is practically coated in evil."
Her open face showed only curiosity with no traces of mockery. "Are you a monk?"
Evan shook his head. "I'm Brother Evan, from a Catholic institution in Tokyo," he bowed to her, finding movement just a bit easier. The girl remained pensive; he let her keep her silence.
"I'm Kaname Madoka—pleased to meet you," she bowed in return after a beat.
Both jumped when lightning flashed, thunder rumbling right on its heels. The rain changed directions as the wind picked up, flinging raindrops against tender skin. They instinctively drew closer to each other, teeth chattering as they found little warmth.
Madoka evidently feared for her friends' lives more than her own—she left Evan without a word, dashing closer to the edge of the docks.
He followed, gasping at the jarring pain that crept up his feet, his legs, into his chest, but determination kept him focused against that despicable suffocation.
He knew the impotent despair on her face. That creature that had brushed him… an echo of its desolation throbbed in his right hand.
Something, something, somewhere out there—hear my plea.
／人◕‿‿◕人＼
Right and wrong—as stark and distinct as night and day.
A simplistic system, true, but adequate enough for most daily situations.
Rain lashed at the abbey above, and they could hear the wind howling, rattling the windows and flinging debris everywhere. Hopefully the building would not bury them in the basement.
Flickering candlelight made shadows dance along; they seemed to partake of the residual menace in the air. Evan glanced to the others instead as he cradled himself in his own arms.
Madoka held vigil over an unconscious Akemi Homura, while Tomoe Mami changed Sakura Kyouko's bandages. Unease lingered in everyone's countenance.
God? I am so lost, so, so lost.
He had watched from the sidelines earlier, but subsequently—he had directly involved himself, offering the girls the empty abbey to stay in while the hurricane raged.
The witch was clearly evil, but what of the girls who had fought it? No normal person could sustain grievous wounds yet recover so quickly. No normal person could summon at will such weapons, such unearthly power. They were… abominations as well.
But they had saved Mitakihara, hadn't they?
"Homura-chan? Are you okay?" Everyone turned as the heretofore silent Madoka spoke to the girl in her arms, who had regained conscious without them noticing.
The black-haired girl fumbled with a pair of glasses, placing the thick red frames crookedly on her face. Only then did she murmur, "I am fine, Kaname-san."
Kyouko interjected, "Then why did ya just cut off your use of magic?"
"Do you need a grief seed, Akemi-san?" Mami added.
Homura, however, had locked eyes with the outsider. Ignoring the others, she glowered at him suspiciously.
Evan, on the other hand, found the purple eyes and heavy red glasses familiar, though he had last seen that thick frame on a chubbier, friendlier face years ago.
"I'm Schuler Evan, but I really think you should let the others check your wounds," he said when the other refused to look away. Questions. So many questions rang in his head.
Madoka immediately nodded, tugging at her friend's arm. "We can explain everything later, Homura-chan. Your health comes first."
Scowl lessening, Homura replied, "It is only magic deficiency and a few minor wounds. I reversed the flow of magic that bolstered my eyesight to redirect it elsewhere." Her hand gingerly pressed at her heart, but she quickly dropped it when she noticed Mami looking at her closely.
"Your concern is unnecessary," she emphasized. "Who is he?"
"Brother Evan, as I said before," Evan repeated, dropping his arms and jutting his chin out.
Waving a hand around, Homura rejoined, "That tells me very little."
Madoka cut in, "Um, well, I think he's trustworthy—what!" Homura had leveled her with a disbelieving look. Defensively, Madoka continued, "He could see Walpurgis and her familiars, but he couldn't see Kyubey and we didn't tell him about anything. He offered to let us stay here while the storm passes, though."
"If anything, he has been very helpful and patient," Mami murmured.
Purple eyes frowned at her, too, but suddenly flickered closed.
Evan rummaged around one of the boxes they had brought down, pulling out a loaf of bread and a bratwurst. He gave the food to Madoka to give to Homura, who resignedly accepted it along with a grey object from Mami.
The silence between them rankled, enforced with uncertain breathing and fleeting, furtive glances.
Homura, the de facto leader, drifted drowsily, but when Evan spoke she focused a sharp gaze on him.
"You saved Mitakihara, right?" Of course they had, but—
"No, we did not," Mami replied instead. Bitterness, and something else, shadowed her face as the candle's flame flickered again. "Witches would not exist if not for magical girls."
Guilt snaked around the room.
"Y'know that riddle about whether the chicken or the egg came first? The magical girl came first, and from us witches are born. We're the monsters," Kyouko explained, darkness evident in her, as well.
"They—we didn't know," Madoka protested, clutching Homura more tightly.
The latter, however, coldly murmured, "Ignorance is a sin, as well. We should have asked, should have been warier, should have known."
Red nodded in agreement.
"It's for the greater good. Our lives, the lives of a few people, in exchange for the life of the universe," Madoka argued half-heartedly, reluctant and torn.
Evan twisted his rosary around his hand.
Abominations, he knew. But he had watched them and all he had seen were worn girls that harbored… grief seeds, Mami had said. Yes, worn girls that harbored seeds of grief.
Then again…
What could result from the blurring of right and wrong?
Uncertainty.
Curiosity colored Homura's usually standoffish voice when she queried, "How were you able to see Walpurgis but not Kyubey?"
They avoided the heart of the matter. An exercise in futility.
He frowned. "Madoka-san mentioned this 'Kyubey,' but I haven't seen anything that matches his description. I think my spiritual power allowed me to see the… witch—really, anything with strong emotions can catch my attention."
"Kyubey lacks emotions; perhaps that is why you could not sense or see him," Mami mused.
Genuinely interested, Evan demanded, "Tell me everything. I want to know." Everything happened for a reason.
Yellow in particular drew his gaze this time. A warning flashed in her expression, but it did not deter him, though he did wonder at her sudden change of mind.
"Like I said," Kyouko's voice cut through, "we're monsters. What else—"
"We're people," Madoka interrupted. Light shone in her eyes, brighter than the candlelight. They all looked at her, drawn like the desperate beggars they were.
In the silence that stretched, they stared at one another.
"Kyubey claims that entropy is killing the universe. The Incubators' solution harnesses the emotions of magical girls, converting them into energy to stave that death," Homura finally murmured. She gripped Madoka tightly against her.
The torn, pained faces of these girls gave Evan the only answer that mattered. What came afterwards was hope.
(Little people
fall to pieces.)
/\
A/N: I know it's not a chapter proper but it relates to the story. How'd you like Evan? I made him Catholic because apparently Homura is from a Catholic/Christian orphanage/institution [depending on the translation], but he could've easily been a monk or priestess or other religious figure above layman.
Chapter ten will return to present-time, and the second half of the interlude will pop up way later.
Review, please!
~Teddy.