The hospital. Sayaka had come to visit her childhood friend, same as always.
Kamijo Kyosuke—a genuine young master in every sense of the word. His family even employed servants and a butler. He himself was a genius violinist.
Sayaka had never possessed the innate musical instinct he did, but she'd gradually learned to appreciate classical music just to have something to talk about with him. Her habit of hunting for music cassette tapes had started after Kyosuke was hospitalized, though some days she'd search from morning to night without finding anything suitable.
Today, Kyosuke wasn't in his room.
"Here to see Kamijo-kun? Sorry—his checkup got moved up. You can head to the rehabilitation room in a little while." A kind nurse let her know.
Because the severity of Kyosuke's injuries made both walking and using his hands extremely difficult, the despair of possibly never recovering had left his temperament somewhat unpredictable. The nurses all remembered him well, and by extension, they'd come to recognize Sayaka as his regular visitor.
"Right…"
Sayaka had a bad feeling. Before the surgery, the doctor had already said the chances of full recovery weren't great.
Walking through the hospital corridor, the sunlight streaming in seemed to cast the shadow of some small animal perched on a tree branch outside, but Sayaka's mind was elsewhere. She didn't notice.
The rehabilitation room.
Kyosuke sat facing the window, gazing out at the dusk, earbuds in. Sayaka sat quietly by his bedside and watched him for a long while.
"What are you listening to?" she asked, knowing he could hear her—Kyosuke never turned the volume up high.
"The Girl with the Flaxen Hair," he murmured.
"Debussy? That's such a beautiful piece."
"…"
No response this time. The silence hung awkwardly for a good while.
Sayaka filled the void herself: "Everyone thinks I'm not the type to appreciate classical music, so whenever I drop a bit of knowledge about it they're totally shocked. Some of them even started respecting me for it… but it was all stuff Kyosuke taught me…"
"Sayaka, did you come here just to rub it in?" The reply came sharp and unkind.
Sayaka froze.
Kyosuke pulled out his earbuds and finally looked at her. "What's the point of making me listen to music now? Are you trying to make me miserable?"
That expression—Sayaka had almost never seen it on his face.
"Because Kyosuke likes it…"
"I don't want to hear it anymore! Pieces I can only listen to but never play myself!" He slammed his injured hand into the record sitting on the bed. It shattered. Blood ran freely.
Sayaka rushed to stop him. "Don't do this!"
Tears streaming down his face, Kyosuke choked out: "It doesn't even hurt—this hand… the doctor told me to give up…"
…
He'd taken it all out on her, but Sayaka understood. A lifelong dream, shattered. He didn't actually think she was taunting him, and he didn't resent her—he just needed somewhere to pour out his despair.
Leaving the hospital, Sayaka sat on a bench outside, staring blankly at the pavement tiles tinted amber by the fading light.
She didn't snap out of it until a squirrel-cat creature wandered into her line of sight.
"Have you changed your mind?"
"You're… Kyubey, right?" Sayaka stared at it vacantly. "If I become a Magical Girl, can any wish really come true?"
Even knowing the cost, with Kyosuke's diagnosis now confirmed as hopeless—and the pressure of him lashing out at her still raw—she couldn't help letting her thoughts tilt toward it.
Her hands moved from resting open to clenched fists. "What the hell—showing up at a time like this. You're way too obvious about it."
Kyubey scratched its neck with a hind leg. "Well, you're currently the most qualified girl in this city who's in need of a wish. Following you around is only natural, isn't it?"
"Mm…"
Sayaka stood. "Can you give me a day to think it over?"
She turned and walked toward home.
Having learned the day before just how not kid-friendly being a Magical Girl really was, she'd thrown the idea out entirely and hadn't given it a second thought.
One wish. The price was… that thing, plus battles where she could lose her life at any moment.
But what was her wish, exactly?
Heal Kyosuke, and then what? What would Kyosuke say—just a simple thank you? Or something else?
What she truly wanted—was it Kyosuke's gratitude, or…
The girl slapped her own cheeks.
Sayaka, you're being really despicable right now.
…
"That Diego can turn into a dinosaur, and he throws ice, and he does Za Warudo, and he follows me everywhere, and he won't die."
Yimi had burrowed under the covers with only her head poking out, earnestly warning Tomohisa about the danger this creature posed.
"Okay, okay, okay. Go to sleep. If he dares come here, I'll chase him off. See the plants in the yard? They can block demons and monsters." Tomohisa pointed out the window, making things up in his best soothing-a-small-child voice.
Seriously, what kind of cartoon scares a kid this badly?
He patted the blanket and quietly backed out of the room, flicking off the light.
"What did the police say?" Junko sat at the table, pouring herself another glass of wine.
Tomohisa moved the bottle out of reach. "They said she's probably not a local child. And don't drink too much—you'll have a headache again tomorrow morning."
This world's urban planning was quite thorough, but its population registry system was still fairly ordinary.
"Absolutely despicable—abandoning a child and going out of their way to do it in another city." Junko rubbed her forehead.
It made sense, though. Plenty of people who abandoned children would travel to a distant city and ditch them at a tourist spot before slipping away, just to make sure the child couldn't find their way back.
"So what do you want to do?" Tomohisa sat down across from her.
"As long as you don't feel the pressure's too much, I don't see a problem raising another child." Junko swirled her glass.
As one of the top performers at her company, finances certainly weren't a concern for her.
"Then let's go with that for now. Is it alright if I take her to the hospital for a checkup tomorrow?" Tomohisa tapped his own ear.
No matter how cute they looked, that wasn't a healthy situation.
While the adults made their plans, Yimi wasn't asleep in her room either. She stared warily out the window.
Her bedroom window was large, and though curtains existed, the kind that pulled down from above was beyond her reach—even if she knew how, she'd need a Stand to get to it.
But she heard faint footsteps on the lawn outside.
Yimi crept out from under the covers and produced the Spear of Longinus.
Tap. A tiny pebble struck her window.
Her cat-grade night vision revealed Sayaka.
Sayaka had been watching since before Tomohisa turned off the lights, so she knew which room was Yimi's. She'd come on impulse—Madoka had mentioned just that morning that the little brat hadn't come back all night, so she hadn't really expected to find her here.
Yimi stowed the spear shaft, opened the window, and climbed out. "What do you want?"
Her room was on the ground floor, so this wasn't particularly dangerous.
Sayaka turned her face away, unable to get the words out no matter how she tried. "Um… if I sign a contract with you, you can grant me one wish, right?"
She'd been the one telling Madoka to stay away from all this, and now here she was.
Compared to Kyubey, whom she barely knew, she'd rather come to the little cat.
Yimi's eyes lit up. "Whatever Miracle can do, I can do."
Sayaka took a deep breath, steeling herself. "What do I need to do?"
"Use this." Yimi produced the apple she'd finished preparing.
Sayaka looked down at the apple—bigger than her own fist—and the color drained from her face.
This wasn't what she'd been promised at all!