Akemi Homura, it turned out, was not actually an easy person to find. No one at school knew where she was, although all the teachers agreed she had definitely come to class; Madoka had caught glimpses of her long, black hair here and there, but had never been able to catch up with her. Telepathically, she wondered to Jotaro whether Homura was the one causing the memory disturbances.
Maybe that's a side effect of her Stand, or something?
Jotaro shook his head and added another label to his diagram of the human heart, trying not to attract the attention of the teacher. We wouldn't remember her, then. Nobody would.
Kyubey sat on his desk, wishing his tail back and forth calmly. The shadow was beginning to distract him, not to mention the unnatural lights of the school classroom (painful brightness, he could barely fucking think), and Jotaro gritted his teeth. That damn cat definitely wasn't being any help. Does she live somewhere? Do her friends know?
Madoka's thoughts buzzed for a moment, as if affected by static. She doesn't really… have any friends. I tried to be friendly when she transferred in, but… She seems to want to keep her distance.
Of course she did. Teachers, then. They'll know.
A pause. Hmm. I suppose if I tell them I'm concerned about her health… I'll try it. Hold on till the end of the day, okay?
With that, she left him and the cat-thing alone with the heart.
Dammit. He was at a disadvantage, and he knew it. There was nothing to punch or outsmart; there was no way either of them could figure out… wait. Something stuck out in the back of his mind. Madoka's Stand – if she remembered it again, or if she made a wish anew (assuming she had had one before and it wasn't just some stupid dream), then perhaps…
He thought back to the name Sayaka had blurted out in her half-manic frenzy: Hermit Pink. What could it do? What did it look like? He remembered… thorns, winding around one white-gloved hand. But… that wasn't Madoka's soft, delicate hand. If only his memory would come back faster, instead of in these small and random images. If only he could remember the person attached to the hand. (They better still be attached, or there was going to be trouble.)
A name floated through his mind. Her codename. 'Joseph Joestar'. Who was he? (It was a male name, right? He had trouble telling with foreign names sometimes.) And how were they connected, this man and himself?
Jotaro suddenly realised that the only member of his family he could remember was his mother. Her wish… her wish was for him to have a good life. A natural thing for a mother to want for her child. And yet…
Why could he remember that, of all things? What kind of cruel torturer would give him back the memory of his mother's illness when he couldn't even do anything about it? His wish… dammit, his wish wasn't even close to being fulfilled, at least as far as he knew. He knew, somehow, that his main objective was to help her, to get her better… And yet here he was, sitting in a classroom writing 'circumflex artery' and 'ascending aorta', while a girl he barely knew searched for a mad girl. What good was this doing anyone?
His time limit. 50 days. The number popped into his head, as if to mock him. He had been here, what, three days? He didn't have enough time…
He pulled down his cap. That was enough. He had had enough of this bullshit, this memory stuff. If they didn't find Homura, he would leave. Memory or no memory, he couldn't let her die. It wasn't that he was charging off with no idea where to go – he'd start off with the big cities and search them with a fine-tooth comb. Then, if he remembered where his mother actually lived, or if he remembered something about what he was doing in this dumb city…
Had he, perhaps, been looking for a cure for her? But, then, how had he ended up so badly injured, in the middle of a high-school classroom in Japan?
He frowned down at the neatly-drawn tubes and muscles of the heart. There was an odd circle around the bottom of the aorta, just below where the diagram had cut off, like a mockery of the silver ring on his finger. 50 days, 49, 48, 47… and then his mother would die, and his heart would rip in two.
Fuck.
I found her. Meet me at this address.
Jotaro stomped down the street in a foul mood, a cigarette between his lips and a hand tightly clenched against the brim of his cap. It had taken them the rest of the day to track this weird bitch down, her and her multiple personalities, and she probably wouldn't – or more likely couldn't – tell them anything about what was going on. God-fucking-dammit.
He knew, rationally, that facing up to the only other magical girl in the city – that they knew of – was a good idea. Even with a will of steel, there was bound to be something she let slip – about her 'other body', her involvement in all of this, why she was their enemy. But the 50 days… They ate at him, slowly, making his thoughts confused and anxious. How many days had he blanked out before waking up here?
Damn, he wasn't like this. He had to be calm. Cool. Have confidence that this case would be solved and that he could get his memory back. But the time ticked by, and he couldn't do anything to stop it. One day, two days, three days…
The memories are hurting you, Jotaro. The white cat-thing with the red markings padded next to him, keeping up with his long strides without any apparent effort. You should do something about that.
He scoffed. "Thanks, but no thanks. I can handle this."
Can you? Kyubey's long, white ears – the ones with those ridiculous floating rings – twitched from side to side. I'm surprised you'd wish to continue such mental torture.
"Torture? I can endure it if it means not turning into a witch. Or a… warlock, or whatever guys turn into." He frowned. "Besides, how do you know how I feel? What I remember?"
It's a common side effect of using magic. The red eyes glanced sidelong at him, and he grimaced. It comes to everyone, even if they only have one soul.
A pause. "You knew about that. Sayaka-chan, and 'Polnareff'. You knew that would happen."
When a person has two souls locked inside themselves, there will be competition. Memories flood in, making one strong, and eventually… That is without even considering that too many memories will inevitably bring pain to a Stand user. No matter how many souls.
"You bastard. You never told us this."
You never asked. Besides, I'm not the bad guy here. I only wish to make you happy and free of pain.
"And how's that?" Jotaro glared at the red outline on Kyubey's back. "As a witch – warlock? Putting other people in danger?"
Ah, your mother was subject to a witch's kiss, was she not? Causing a mysterious sickness that no one understood… He swished his wide, fluffy tail. How unfortunate that mere wishes cannot save her.
"Huh. Figures that even a bastard like you can't defeat a witch."
Your self-control, Jotaro, is amazing. I barely even noticed that little twitch. Killing me, however, would not do you any good.
Jotaro growled slightly. His fingers, tight in fists that cried out to punch, started to cramp.
He was shaking.
"Ah, Jotaro-kun… Wait, are you all right?" Madoka turned towards him, her hand darting away from the doorbell of what was, apparently, the perfect place for a magical girl to avoid people. A name plate sat on the left side of the door: [Akemi Homura]; below the neat engraving, deep grooves had been scratched as if with claws to spell out another name.
[DIO].
At least they knew this was the right place.
"I'm fine. This damn cat is pissing me off."
"Well…" She looked down at the little cat-thing's calm face, as blank as ever. "We should probably keep him around. If all else fails…" She smiled weakly. "I can always make a wish."
"Don't. Not for me." Jotaro rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment and made a face. "Not good." He explained the memory problem – he had them, for a start, and they weren't good.
"Fifty days?"
"Yup. So if we don't get anything from Homura-chan…" He gestured out into the world. "I'm going to find my mother and help her, somehow. I at least need to be there if she…"
Madoka leaned forward slightly and placed a hand on his arm. If he hadn't been so wound up, it would have been a nice gesture; as it was it felt close, too close, like a fucking knife instead of a hand. "She won't die, Jotaro-kun. Not yet. We just have to believe and trust that she'll be okay. I know…" She sighed, and dropped her hand again. "I know this is hard. In my dreams, I know the pain of heartbreak all too well."
"And… in reality?"
"Sayaka-chan was my friend. I liked Kyouko a lot, even we spent so little time with her. And Mami… She was a good guardian, a good sempai. I think it'd be stupid not to feel anything for them. That's what makes us human, after all." She smiled, a true beam of peace and joy, and he wondered how she could stand it.
For a moment, he almost wanted to be stupid, nonhuman, just so he wouldn't have to feel any of this shit, but – Kyubey. That would be exactly what the little motherfucker wanted, wouldn't it? For him to give in and seek relief in a grief seed.
So… maybe it was good, like she said. He didn't know if it was her speaking or her codename persona, and at this point he didn't really care: this came from the heart, either way. And, at least, she shouldn't feel the pain of her memories, not just yet.
"You don't have to use your wish on this. We can handle this on our own."
Her smile changed, into a cheeky grin with a hint of cocky assurance. "Yeah. Let's talk to this bitch, shall we?"
(Suddenly, he could really see the difference between her codename personality and the real thing. He wondered if that was permanent.)
"Right."
With all the pent-up aggression of a boxer landing the final punch, Madoka rang the doorbell.
