Chapter Text
"I remember exactly who you are and what you've done, transfer student..."
I hate how peacefully this world functions. I mean... why do I feel this resentment when everything follows its predetermined cycle? Everyone is still here: my family, my friends, Kyoko, Mami-san, and Madoka...
The serenity within me shattered the moment I saw my best friend standing beside Akemi Homura. I don’t know why I loathe her so much; a dull, persistent discomfort gnaws at my subconscious every time those hands of hers show even the slightest gesture of intimacy toward Madoka. Yet, I can never explain to Madoka why I grow so tense just by sensing Homura’s presence.
Every time those eyes look at me, that violet gaze feels as though it wants to swallow me whole. There is an arrogance in the way her lashes droop, looking at me with half-lidded disdain. But behind it lies the clawing desperation of a demon—haunting me with an invisible, primal fear that I simply cannot resist.
A demon... That’s it. My hatred isn't just intuition. As fragmented shards of memory graft themselves back into my mind, I see the image of that monster seizing the Law of Cycles and creating this world—a world dominated by Homura’s own dark desires. Those memories are the reason I cannot forgive her. Even if she is a devil, I am determined to fight her at any cost.
Running along the water's edge toward school, I am determined to find Madoka and tell her the truth, hoping to bring her consciousness back to reality.
But it feels as if the entire universe is conspiring against me. No matter how hard I run, the distance to Mitakihara Middle School remains unchanged...
By the time exhaustion takes hold and my legs can no longer move, my sapphire eyes realize the world is being stained by a blood-red sky. It isn't the brilliant glow of a sunset amidst a melancholic dusk. The sky is bright, the clear clouds float silently, but the ocean blue has been dyed crimson, a bloody hue smothering the light of the sun.
"Hello there, Miki Sayaka~"
A sudden voice pierces through my chest like a hand, shattering the rhythm of my heavy breaths and sending a chill down my spine. When I finally regain my senses, I realize who is standing before me... Homura. She sits leisurely at a table under a parasol, sipping coffee, right in the middle of the path I was running.
She looks the same—her hair flowing, dressed in her usual school uniform—but that very familiarity fills me with dread, making my heart hammer against my ribs. I need to cast aside this imagined fear. If I am the only one who carries these memories, then I must be the one to stand and fight.
A blue light glows from my Soul Gem. The first thing I feel after transforming is my blade—carrying the full weight of my hatred—swinging toward where Homura sits.
"Akemi Homura... I remember everything you did!" Fueled by a surge of rage that suppresses my fear, I shout with a fury intended to slice through her smug expression. Kicking aside a chair, I leap onto the table and level my sword at her throat.
The coffee cup spills at my sudden movement, but her eyes remain fixed on the blade, never once meeting mine. Her gaze is hollow, her voice devoid of emotion. "Remember what? Pointing a sword at me isn't a wise decision."
"What you did to Madoka and the Law of Cycles—how could I ever forget?"
Gently, she taps her finger against the flat of my blade. Homura’s eyes wander with a confusing vacantness at my accusation. "Still as stubborn as ever, aren't you, Miki-san? No matter how many times I erase your memories..."
"Erase? What the hell are you talking about?!" My eyes tremble; a chaotic mess of thoughts begins to clash in my head. Had I been brainwashed by Homura? But since when?
"You know~" She offers a faint, mocking smile. "To keep your lips from whispering the truth about the Law of Cycles to anyone, I’ve had to wipe your memory of it quite many times." She places a finger gently against my lips, tracing them before pointing to her own temple in a playful, taunting gesture.
"Many times? How many?!" I growl bitterly. So this wasn't the first time? All that internal conflict I suffered was for memories that had been stolen from me. The feeling of being toyed with like a puppet makes me lose my grip on composure.
"You ask too many questions, Miki-san~" Resting her chin on her hand, Homura tilts her head dismissively.
"But I don't really keep count. It’s nothing compared to the number of times I’ve traveled through time." Her face lifts, looking directly into my eyes. Her lips curl into a sinister smile, mocking me with that familiar, smug look that has haunted me. That gaze makes my blood boil, and I stop caring about questioning this monster.
I thrust my blade toward her neck, trying to stop my trembling, frantic hands from tearing her throat open. But no red blood flows from the wound. Her lovely face remains unchanged, that triumphant smile still etched on her lips.
"You know? Every time your lips even twitch toward telling someone, I have to rewrite their memories." Homura reaches out, grabbing the cloak at my neck and pulling our faces close together.
"Ack! Let go of me!" I choke out.
"The feeling of a world that can't function peacefully without my constant interference... it’s quite irritating, you know?" Homura’s hand tightens around my throat until the veins on the back of her hand bulge. Her infuriating face twists, a ghostly light of pure rage burning in her pupils. She speaks each word with a flat, vibrationless tone—a whisper that feels like deathly knives stabbing into my body.
"!!" In a burst of cold anger, Homura shoves me by the throat and collarbone, knocking me off the table. My legs lose their balance as I stumble back. Just as I am about to hit the ground, an invisible force yanks at my fingers, suspending my body parallel to the earth. When I manage to focus, I see red threads tied tightly around my arms, pulling them toward the sky.
"Miki Sayaka, I gave you everything you wanted in this world: the heroic ideals of a Magical Girl, your precious mentor Mami, even your partner Sakura Kyoko. What more do you crave that makes you want to tear this world down?" Homura approaches and takes my suspended hand, leaning down until her face is inches from mine. Against the blood-red sky, her face looms over me, oppressive and terrifying. I realize then that the person before me isn't the "transfer student" I once knew; she is a devil drowned in despair. The sheer killing intent in her eyes freezes my body, leaving me unable even to stand straight.
"Give Madoka back... to the Law of Cycles...!" I gasp, clutching my throat from her shove. My voice trembles as I struggle to force the words out. Her shadow looms over me, a weight of fear that traps my screams in my chest.
"Everything... except Madoka!" Homura’s gaze grows heavy at the mention of that name, as if it were an obsession etched into her very soul.
"If I cannot satisfy your desires..." Homura reaches behind my head with her other hand, tilting my face up to hers. "Then I will change those desires forever, Miki-san~"
She leans in slowly, her dark red lips closing in to break through my weak resistance. Her hand presses against my neck, tilting my head up as she forces a wild, frantic kiss upon me. My mind is seized by the cold, soft pressure of her lips. My jaw freezes as she pushes deeper. It feels as if my mouth is being turned to ice by her impossibly low body temperature. I am forced to endure the invasion, my own damp tongue overwhelmed by the assault.
For a few agonizing seconds, my throat hitches; it feels as though the kiss is siphoning the very air from my lungs. I am frozen—perhaps by the pressure of the fear she has planted in me, or perhaps by the cold that feels like touching a soul-less corpse. At such close range, I am forced to stare into those deathly eyes. I feel something flowing into me—stinging, burning. The hand behind my neck presses firmly, branding me with the mark of a black lizard.
Homura isn't just stealing a kiss; some substance from the devil is marking this body. By the time I realize it, it's too late. My nerves go numb. It feels as if her hand is touching my brain directly; every cell in my body turns cold and shudders in panic. The structure of my consciousness is torn apart. The panic and resistance melt away into a void until my awareness blurs, and I can no longer feel reality...
...
After a moment of hollow displacement, the first thing I feel as I return to my senses is a burning heat on my neck—right where she branded me. When my eyes clear, the scene has changed. I am in a narrow alleyway, bathed in a fading sunset, the light reflecting off wet iron pipes.
Where am I? The thought flickers through my mind. It felt as if her touch had pushed my soul right out of this world. Yet, I can still feel everything through my heavy breathing. Where did she take me? Just thinking of her name makes my attention shift instinctively toward a movement on the iron pipes. A black lizard crawls slowly, then another, then an entire swarm moving toward me.
Before I can stabilize my thoughts, my control slips as they swarm past my feet, gathering in the shadows of the alley behind me. I spin around. From the darkness, black wings and scattered feathers emerge in the dim light, swallowing the weak rays of sun.
"Does this place look familiar, Miki-san?" In her demonic form, dressed in a black gown, Homura’s voice echoes—not just in the air, but inside my head. It triggers a memory; fragments piece together to form a scene from the old world. Right. This is the place where Kyoko and I first met...
Why here? My confusion is instantly eclipsed by her approaching footsteps. I instinctively back away, but a sudden weight crushes my throat. Cold, heavy metal. With a mere wave of Homura’s hand, my neck is collared—shackled by a steel chain connected to a pipe above.
"Ah!!" Panic sets in. My fingers claw at the chain, trying to wrench it off, but it won't budge. With every step she takes, the atmosphere grows heavier. This isn't the Homura I knew; this is the devil who tore Madoka away before my very eyes. Facing her now, my will to resist crumbles into pure terror. Homura closes the distance slowly, like a predator savoring a trapped prey.
"I'm tired of erasing that stubborn brain of yours every time you cause trouble for Madoka." Homura’s silhouette glides like the night, her voice dripping with threat. She stands against the sunset, her face cast in total shadow, making the manic violet glow of her eyes stand out like a fire meant to consume me. "Since you persist, I must use more... drastic measures."
"She won't... she won't let you get away with this if you kill me."
"Why would I kill a pet when I can break it?" Homura sneered. She seized my wrists, pinning them above my head with a single, crushing hand. She pressed her body into mine, her gaze burning with a violet, predatory hunger.
"A sensation that can shatter even the most rigid will... I imagine you've never felt it, have you?" She whispered into my ear, her breath a cold shiver against my skin. Her free hand slid down, fingers tracing my collarbone before diving beneath the fabric of my uniform.
"Ah! Stop! What are you doing?!" My spine stiffened as Homura yanking my top down, exposing my bare breasts to the freezing air. I felt small, violated, and utterly exposed.
"I'm giving you a taste of something forbidden, Miki-san."
She watched the heat of shame flush across my face. Her hand clamped over my breast, her thumb and forefinger pinching my nipple with a cruel, mocking pressure. Each squeeze sent a jolt of unwanted heat through my core. My breath hitched, dissolving into involuntary moans as she toyed with my hardening nub.
Then, she leaned down. Her dark red lips brushed against my skin before clamping her mouth over my breast, her tongue lashing and swirling against my nipple.
"Kyaaa!! No!!" I jolted. It was deathly cold—as if she were sucking on a piece of jagged ice. The temperature of her mouth was even lower than when she had stolen my kiss. My sensitive tip went completely numb under the freezing assault.
A paralyzing chill radiated through my spinal cord. My thighs buckled, and I would have collapsed if not for the chains. Tears flowed as I choked on my own whimpers. Her teeth nipped and bit into the swollen peak, her tongue slicking the area until I felt like my entire breast was being branded by frost.
She suddenly pulled away, driving her thigh upward between my legs, hard. The pressure ground against my soaking wet crotch, forcing me to stand straight. I let out a sharp cry as my clitoris, already tingling with nerves, was crushed and rubbed by her leg. The moisture leaking from me stained my underwear and slicked her thigh.
"It seems this useless body isn't as stubborn as your mouth," she taunted. She knelt slowly, her fingers tracing a path down my stomach to my Soul Gem. Then, her hand slid lower, shoving past the lace of my panties to find my throbbing, wet slit.
"St-stop... damn you..." I couldn't form words. My moans were constant now, triggered by her fingers fucking my lower belly and making the flesh around it writhe.
She leaned in to lick my Soul Gem, her tongue treating it like a delicacy while her fingers pushed deep inside me. My wet, burning walls clamped down on her fingers as they stretched and raked inside my cunt.
The waves of lust were endless, a fire burning through my shame. Each thrust of her fingers sent a jolt of electricity through me, making my stomach cramp in a mix of agony and ecstasy. My womb felt like it was on fire, the pressure building toward a breaking point as the fluids gushed out of me, coating her hand in a sweet, sticky mess.
"Remember this... remember how you felt under my hand~"
...
I suddenly snap back to reality on the path to school. A strange sensation lingers in my limbs. I look up at the sky; it’s the familiar, peaceful world again.
Am I back?
Confusion races through me. Homura is nowhere to be found. Was it a dream? The thought crosses my mind, but my body remembers. The stimulation... it still echoes in my nerves. I reflexively touch my chest.
My heart is still racing, my breath heavy. It feels as if I’ve just escaped a nightmare, yet the sensations are too vivid, too real. The lingering heat flows through my muscles like a dying ember. I stand there, dazed, taking a moment to feel the safety of the blue sky and the sunlight dancing on the river. Maybe I escaped. At least, that’s what I want to believe.
I run a hand through my hair and grip the back of my neck, tilting my head to catch my breath. But then, a searing heat flares where my hand touches my skin. My eyes dart to the river, looking at my reflection in the water.
I pull my hair aside. There, stark against my skin, is the black lizard tattoo...
It is her mark...