Thread: The Devil's Own Time (Azecreth & tiger_lily)

It's pointless now, a small voice insists within Sayaka Miki's head as she trods down the street, the setting sun casting a blood-red tint over the city of Mitakihara, the lengthy shadows of its buildings stretching ever further towards her as if to grab her and drag her into their dark depths. If you were going to do something about her, you should have done it back in middle school. Just wait a few months until you graduate. Go to university somewhere far away and you'll never have to think about her again. Sayaka knows the voice in her head is the sensible part of her talking, but she ignores it. She won't have to think about Homura, but at this point, it will bother her for the rest of her life if she doesn't do something while she still can. She'd tried to do something about Homura before she remembered that much. She'd had an argument with her, just before Madoka came back to Japan. What had the argument been about? Why had she dropped it, despite being so frustrated it still bothered her to this day? Why couldn't she remember? Sayaka's memory was excellent. Even though it had been years ago, she remembered that day like it was yesterday. She remembered one of Kyouko's apples floating down the river after Homura threw it there. She remembered Nagisa running around without a care in the world while she and Homura argued. She remembered how she'd cried afterwards. But she couldn't remember Homura's words, or her own. Not the ones that mattered. Eventually you won't feel out of place anymore. Homura had said that to her. Did she only remember the lies? I won't forget the fact that you're a demon. She'd said that to Homura. Sayaka could be rude when someone deserved it, but that didn't seem like her style of insult. What had she meant by it? The blue-haired girl finds herself staring at the ring she always wore on her finger. She'd forgotten why she wore that too, but somehow she'd always had a foreboding that something bad would happen if she didn't. Tearing her gaze away, Sayaka looks up instead. She's in front of the building where Homura lives. It's old-fashioned, with a courtyard and a stone gate. Words from the Italian poem she's been reading in one of her high school classes appear, unbidden, at the forefront of Sayaka's mind. Only those elements Time cannot wear Were made before me, and beyond Time I stand. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. These mysteries I read cut into stone Above a gate. Sayaka closes her eyes, shaking her head, and opens them again. There are no mysteries cut into stone above this gate. She steps forward through it, ignoring the momentary chill that goes over her, and continues towards Homura's apartment. She raises her hand, allows herself one last sweet moment of hesitation, and raps her knuckles sharply against the door. Homura, she says in a loud, stern voice. Akemi Homura. We need to talk. She considers following that up with a white lie, but there's no use pretending she's here for any reason besides the truth. Homura would probably ignore her if she said anything other than the truth she's never seen any sign that the girl cares about anyone or anything else. ...About Madoka.