Chapter Text
Alina hadn’t smoked but twice before her death, but she’d picked up the habit recently. After all, she was a dead woman walking, what was a little lung cancer other than ispirazione? She exhaled before tapping the ash from the end of her cigarette, letting it drift down to the bound girl struggling below her. Looking at Kuro like it was her first time seeing the woman, she smiled. “I, Alina, believe the time is almost now. You will become my greatest piece of art, you should be proud.”
The girl was bound and gagged, her black hair falling over her eyes as she thrashed against her tethers. Writhing, her back arched away from the cold labyrinth floor before Alina’s boot pushed her down again.
Slowly, Alina examined the soul gem she held in one hand, examining the cloudy near black gem. “You see, you are an improvvisazione canvas, and we will see if this “Law of Cycles” Alina has heard so much about can save you here.” She took another long drag off of her cigarette before speaking again, “so then, let’s party!” Alina jammed the stub of her cigarette into the soul gem in her hand.
Alina had never heard someone scream like Kuro did then as her soul gem turned black in her fingers and shattered. It was exhilarating, no, titillating. Kuro’s body exploded in thick black goo that billowed and grew, warping in strange and disconcerting shapes barely contained by her tattered clothing that stretched across it. Space seemed to distort as Kuro’s form grew impossibly large and terrible, and as Alina regarded it, strange words began to flicker about it in a language Alina couldn’t read. Finally, as it reached its full size, the creature roared.
Alina released a low whistle before breathing the words, ‘You are perfezione.”
***
Alina didn’t care what anyone thought, she bit into the hunk of dark chocolate she clutched in her hand as she walked down the street. Her face was sticky with the stuff, and it ran down her hands as the rain washed over her leaving thick inky trails of chocolate. In her other hand, she played with what remained off the girl’s soul gem, an inky black think of broken metal and fractured crystal.
Alina was somewhat let down. The fact the thing that had burst free from Kuro had tried to kill her didn’t surprise Alina, but the fact that it died so easily did. A patetica girl became a lame monster, but in terms of proof of concept, the options were limitless. In that instance where despair had eclipsed the girl’s will to live and the joy she had felt, Alina was genuinely moved.
Tired of it, Alina discarded the slab of chocolate as she entered the Coordinator’s home, letting it land on the sidewalk to slowly dissolve into the rain. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve as she entered the large chamber. Alina cast her gaze this way and that looking for Mitama, but not seeing her, she yelled out. “Oh Coordinator, I, Alina, have come to see you out of the kindness of Alina’s heart.”
Mitama’s head poked from around the kitchen door—silver hair cascading down like an apparition—and her eyes lit up as they fixed on the artist. “Alina,” Mitama squealed, “your timing is fantastic, I was just ♪ ma-a-king din-n-n-er! ♪ ”
Alina shrugged as she entered the kitchen. “Your food is terrible. You will never be a chef, but Alina will partake in your failure, for she is yet to consume her daily nutrients.”
“Terrible?!” Mitama’s eyes brimmed with tears which she blinked away. Maybe she was using unions?
“Sì, your food is awful, you should really spend your time refining your real talents.” Alina boosted herself onto the edge of the kitchen table, letting her feet dangle. Almost contemplatively she inquired, “have you ever modeled?”
“What?!” Mitama seemed genuinely taken aback.
Without looking, Alina lay back on the table. She held the broken soul gem aloft, letting the pale blue light fail to penetrate it as she examined its many facets. “Alina would have drawn you yesterday, but today,” Alina shifted her gaze to Mitama, “I have questions.”
Recovering quickly, Mitama narrowed her eyes to slits with interest, her gaze obviously caught by Alina’s bauble. “I have many answers.” She paused a moment before smiling again, though even Alina could tell that the abrupt change in facial expressions had something lacking in subtlety. “After all, I’m not ♪ your co-o-ordinat-o-o-r for noth-h-h-ing! ♪. ”
“Perfetto.” Alina grinned as she sat up again, snatching the shattered soul gem in her closed grasp. “I must know, what did you tell me would happen to the magical girl when her soul gem became tainted?”
Mitama couldn’t help but smile. Turning, she moved a pot from the stove, a dull green smoke emanating from it. She half turned to glance at Alina as she carried it to the sink. “They are claimed by the Law of Cycles, yes?”
“Sì,” Alina paused, dropping unto her side and propping herself on her elbow so that she could keep watch over Mitama as she cooked. “I, Alina, would like you to elaborate more upon this Law of Cycles.”
“Well,” Mitama paused to pour the substance into a strainer before speaking, “it’s hardly more than a rumor among us magical girls.”
Alina rolled her eyes. “Cut to the point before I die of bo-o-o-oredom.”
Mitama inhaled the steam coming off of the lumpy mass before frowning. “Just a little…” The chef seemed stumped before something clicked, and Mitama wildly clenched her fists to her chest before seizing the bottle of dish soap and squirting it onto the lumpy substance… “Dirty!” Mitama finally finished her statement as she began to scrub the food.
“Ugh…” Alina fell onto her back again before splaying herself spread eagle on the table. “I fail to see how this disgusting slop is either relevant, or edible.”
“Well, ♪ you won’t know until you tr-r-r-y it! ♪ ” Mitama pushed a plate towards Alina across the table.
Alina rolled onto her stomach and regarded the platter. “This looks awful. What even is this?” Alina regarded the lumpy shapeless greenish brown masses which still had soap bubbles clinging to them. They were garnished with a thick red sauce drizzled on top. “What is… This?”
“They’re a special delicacy I made just for you.” Mitama clasped her hands and smiled.
Giving the woman a dirty look, Alina dipped her finger into the red sauce before touching it to her tongue and grimacing. “It is ketchup?”
“It’s your coordinator’s special sauce.” Mitama batted her eyelashes.
Alina shrugged. “Food is fuel. Tell me about this rumor.” Eying one of the lumps like it might bite her, Alina began to tentatively maneuver her fingers about it like it was fragile and might break.
Mitama conversely slurped one of the lumps down before patting her mouth delicately with a napkin. “Well, it is said the law of cycles comes the moment a Magical Girl would succumb to despair, to sooth all of her curses and misery.”
With one of the lumps cupped in her hands like a baby bird, Alina looked up. “So, this cycle would have to find this girl first?”
“I suppose so.” Mitama got a far off sort of smile. “It is rumored that the Law of Cycles continues its job because of an obligation to atone for something it has done. Like a scorned lover trying to win back their true love after an offense. At least, that is what I have heard.”
A violent cackle began in Alina’s gut before spreading through her body and wracking it. The lump of food slipped between her fingers and ruptured on the table spreading a green mucus that twitched.
Cocking her head to the side, Mitama watched the girl before her.
Alina did not respond, being too consumed in whatever thought was preoccupying her. A thought not privy to Mitama, nor to anyone else, but instead locked inside the inexplicable mind of Alina Gray.
***
Karin glanced up from her work to see Alina slink into the art room, a scowl affixed to her lips. While the younger girl watched, the older walked to her current artwork—a masterful canvas of vibrant colors—running her fingers across its surface.
“Alina-Senpai,” Karin piped up, voice a quivering with apprehension, “is everything—”
Alina cut the girl off by laughing. It was a whole body giggle that started in the gut before exploding from her lips. “I understand it now…”
“Senpai?” Karin’s voice was very faint, but resounded in the silence before the storm.
Recoiling just enough, Alina hung there for a split moment before lunging at her work. Her fingertips tear through canvas, rending the work. When there was no more to rend, she began to kick at the frame, breaking one of the corners apart before hurling the piece against a shelf of art supplies which collapsed to the floor.
“Senpai!” Karin’s scream is drowned out by the destruction, as Alina rampaged, throwing tables and chairs. Desks adorned with her artwork are smashed, and furniture gives way to detritus. As Alina rounded on Karin, the girl spoke again, this time much softer. “... S-Senpai?”
Looming above the girl, Alina froze. She breathed heavily, as her eyes flicked over the manga that Karin has spent countless hours drawing. “It is terrible…” Alina pauses, her words drifting until they come to her. “However, it is only an artist who may destroy their own artwork.” In a sudden movement, Alina snatched the younger girl’s drink off the desk, and sucked at the strawberry milk idly as she surveyed the damage.
“Alina-Senpai,” Karin’s voice—while timid—piped up from behind Alina, “why are you so mad?”
It took a moment for the thought to fully register, but when it did, Alina cackled, rough laughter breaking from her lips. “I, Alina, am happy. I have found new ispirazione, I have a new canvas to apply my paints.”
While she didn’t reply, Karin’s brows knitted tightly. After a long moment, Alina half turned, grinning ear to ear. “Alina’s old work has zero meaning to me now.”
Karin’s face brightened, “Just like in Phantom Thief Magical Kirin 27, where Kirin says that her past no longer controls her!”
Pausing, Alina’s mind was stopped dead in its tracks. She’d read the garbage Karin idolized in her stay at Satomi Medical Center. Alina had not been amused, but as memories raced through her head, the comparison seemed… Oddly apt. There was a masochistic amusement in her voice as she responded, “Your analogy is not as ridicola as normal for you fool girl.”
“What are you going to do now?”
Flicking her hair, Alina turned to leave, only pausing at the door to look back. It was one of those few moments where Alina saw Karin, looked over her, and really saw the girl, so small, so doting, looking for any answer that she could treasure. “I am going to kill the old Alina.”
***
Mikazuki Villa was full of lights. They twinkled in the windows, spilling out warmth into the gathering dusk. Alina watched steadily from the opposing rooftop, her eyes searching the windows. She'd been there for some time, watching as the girls came in. The boarding house was empty save for the veterans now. Alina knew who lived in the villa, who came, and who went. She watched often.
The lights steadily winked out in the downstairs, before the upstairs ones flicked on. The master bedroom had the curtains pulled, but she could see silhouettes against the warm light. The model and the perfetto woman. They were fighting again… Alina loved it when they fought. It was when they argued that Alina could imagine being there. She’d watched them sleep, watched them in the throws of passion, watched them entertain guests, but it was only when she could tell they were yelling that she could imagine herself in their home, when she could imagine a life where she had cut all her ties, where she lived in the villa like Mifuyu had offered. Alina imagined seeing more than silhouette, being more than a casual observer. She imagined the perfect body, complete in its majesty. Her attention was entirely concentrated on her shadowy form’s every movement. She’d first seen her at Mitama’s shop. The older girl had swept out as Alina entered, and she’d been struck dumb by her. The ispirazione lasted a week.
Now though, it was time to abandon such mundane dreams… Alina blew a kiss on the wind before sliding off the roof. The air took her before the impact ran through her legs. Straightening from a crouch, Alina made her way out of the house’s yard and into the street. She paused in the street before the villa, giving it one last look before turning. That was not the path she had chosen, even when Mifuyu had offered it to her. How was she supposed to work when being fawned over like a child? Besides, Alina had a home wherever she liked thanks to her magia, as well as her parent’s estate. Still, even besides Mifuyu’s perfect form, there was an allure to the villa, even if not the house itself. Something that seemed so appealing to Alina, but was also appaling.
Shaking her head, Alina ran her fingers through her long green hair. The first step was the hardest, but the second came easier. The light caught Alina though, even as she walked away. It spilled out as the front door of the villa flew open, and the goddess stood there. She was clad in her night clothes, and tears stained her cheeks as she furiously stared into the night, before her eyes caught on the one thing out of place. Her voice cracked with trial and strain as she spoke, unsurely she called out, “Alina?”
***
Among the broken records, the devil watched, watches, will watch Mitikihara. Time had ceased to pass, or more, time passed how she willed it. Still though, she had missed her chance, missed her moment to intercede, before for once now, the girl had slipped from her view, but then, wasn’t that how it went for her? She was so focused, that a minor detail slipped by her. It was her duty to bring salvation, but, what could a simple wish do about that? What could it do against her? Between the ancient records she looked, she searched, and finally, she found… One where there was only one difference… She was sure Madoka had found it before, and she lovingly ran her fingers along the record, searching, reviewing, and then abandoning.
As she moved within her labyrinth, and then, Homura admitted time’s tug on her, embraced physicality, and let it all wash over her. As she descended, she plucked the broken rodent from his place, stroking his white fur back as she soared through the skies, letting houses, cities, landscapes, drift by below.
“Kyubey?” The alien shuddered as Homura stopped on the doorstep of the suburban home. “I have a role for you to play again, in-cu-bator.” The devil chided, gently playing with Kyubey’s tail.
“What would you have me do, Homura Akemi?” Kyubey’s thought erred on the side of caution as he gently flicked his tail away from her fingertips.
“Offer Iroha Tamaki”, she paused to play with the small beast, feeling its heart pump in its chest, “a contract.” As she released the incubator down, so gingerly that one could miss it, she snapped the creature’s left front leg between her fingers.
As Kyubey landed, he tumbled, his broken leg not supporting his weight. He whimpered, thrashing on the ground, but as he looked up, the devil had vanished the gathering dark. He tried to stand, but struggled, limping a step or two before falling again.
It was then that Kyubey heard her, a girl’s voice. “Huh?” The pink haired girl must have been walking home from school as she turned onto the house’s front walkway. She stopped to stare at the bizarre animal on her doorstep.
From afar, Homura watched, chin propped on her palm, and grinning ear to ear. If she couldn’t interfere, she would find someone who could. This timeline would never match that record she’d poured over, but then again, it didn’t have to. All Homura needed was a heroine.
***
Alina stood, brows furrowed at the most beautiful girl she had ever seen, the perfect body, and she tried to understand. Mifuyu’s struggles, her worries, her desperation, Alina focused in, searching for the inspiration she desperately desired. It was strange though, seeing this divine creature speak of her woes. Alina had only spoken with Mifuyu a handful of times when she’d orchestrated meetings; simply searching for a glimpse of this girl to inspire her to greater creativity. Looking to make that beauty her own. Hearing her this way though, it was different. Alina was not sure she liked it, but at the same time, it was thrilling.
Mifuyu half turned, her eyes brimming with tears. She was illuminated by the moon behind her, a blazing half circle at its most full as the city bustled below them. It was so strangely quiet so high up, the wind cutting through the skyscrapers the only noise on the Kamihama rooftops. Mifuyu broke it, making dead eye contact. “I’m growing weaker. Yachan hardly has the strength to continue fighting. It’s not fair of me to burden her further, especially when she already thinks...” Mifuyu’s voice dies off, without the resolve to voice Yachiyo’s concern, as if somehow, that would make it come true.
“Model for me.” Alina clasped her hands tightly. Mifuyu’s words had fed her a resolve, “I, Alina, desired to paint you before, and now, your words, I will make them immortal.” She grinned ear to ear—teeth glittering in the moonlight—and extended a hand. Alina’s beauty, that is what she had vowed to share with the world… And now, it was all in her grasp.